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A SURGEON IN KHAKI 




The Author outside ambulance headquarters at Ouderdom. 



A 

SURGEON IN KHAKI 



BY 

ARTHUR ANDERSON MARTIN 

M.D., Ch.B., F.R.C.S.Ed. 

SENIOR SURGEON, PALMERSTON NORTH HOSPITAL, NEW ZEALAND 

LATE FIELD AMBULANCE, 5TH DIVISION, 2ND ARMY 

LATE SURGICAL SPECIALIST, NO. 6 GENERAL HOSPITAL, ROUEN, FRANCE 

BRITISH EXPEDITIONARY FORCE 

LATE CIVIL SURGEON, SOUTH AFRICAN FIELD FORCE, 1901 



WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 



NEW YORK: 

LONGMANS, GREEN & CO. 
LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD 

1915 

[All rights reserved] 



■/fi$ 



Printed in Great Britain 






/£. 



PREFACE. 



In the following pages an attempt is made to record, 
however imperfectly, some of the scenes, and the im- 
pressions formed, during those great days of 1914 
when our army was fighting so stubbornly and against 
such odds in France and Flanders. 

The notes in many instances are disconnected, but 
the things seen presented themselves in a disconnected 
way, and if they are not all beautifully dovetailed one 
into another, they are at least given forth somewhat in 
the way in which I viewed and received them myself. 

During the actual progress of this war, and when 
the war is happily over, much literature bearing on 
the great struggle will be produced, but I venture to 
think that of the personal narrative and the personal 
impression one cannot have too much. 

The narrative includes my experiences at Le Havre, 
Harfleur, and the battle of the Marne, the march to the 
Aisne, the wait on the Aisne, the move across France 
to the new lines behind La Bassee, and the final move 
to Flanders not far from Ypres. 

ARTHUR A. MARTIN. 



CONTENTS 



CHAP. PAGE 

I. From Peace to War . . . . .1 

II. Le Havre and Harfleur . . . . .15 

III. From Le Havre to the Bat of Biscay . . .25 

IV. From the Bay of Biscay to East of Paris . . 35 
V. The Advance to the Marne . . . .44 

VI. What I saw of the Battle of the Marne . . 53 

VII. The Night of the Marne . . . . .59 

VIII. From the Marne to the Aisne . . . .65 

IX. The Aisne and the Tragedy of the Sunken Road . 84 

X. Missy on the Aisne . . . . .90 

XI. On the Aisne at Mont de Soissons . . . 103 

XII. Field Ambulances and Military Hospitals . . 124 

XIII. Good-bye to the Aisne ..... 141 

XIV. The La Bassee Road at Chateau Gorre . . 164 
XV. Bethune 

XVI. Some Medical Odds and Ends 
XVII. We leave Bethune . 
XVIII. Over the Belgian Frontier 



XIX. We leave Belgium 
b 



171 

202 
221 
231 
265 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



The Author outside Ambulance Headquarters at Ouderdom 

Frontispiece 



A Road Obstruction near Harfleur 

Harfleur— Our Sleeping Quarters 

Transport Cestrian in the Bay of Biscay 

The Cestrian at St. Nazaire 

Ambulances at the Marne . 

Halt at Serches 

Gun Teams at the Marne . 

The Way to the Sunken Road 

Mont de Soissons, showing the Old Templars' Hall and 
Church . 

Loading Wounded at Soissons. The First Motor Ambulance 

ON THE AlSNE ..... 

The Lean-to at Soissons. Unloading Wounded 
Chateau of Longpont .... 

Village of Longpont .... 

On the Road to Compiegne 
compiegne, showing the broken bridge . 
Ambulance crossing the Oise on a Pontoon Bridge 



FACING PAGE 

18 



18 
32. 
32 

54 
84 



104 

122 
122 
142 
142 
148 
156 
156 



x LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING PAGE 

Low Flat Ground near the Canal, with a Trench . 168 

Towards La Bassee ....... 168/ 

Slightly Wounded and Sick at Bethune . . .176 

Ecole Jules Ferry at Bethune ..... 176 

Trenches in Flanders ...... 198 

monsignor distributing medals to belgian soldiers at the 

Boadside ....... 252 

Going towards the Trenches at Ypres .... 268 

French Soldiers going to the Trenches. . . . 268 



A SURGEON IN KHAKI. 



CHAPTER I. 

FROM PEACE TO WAR. 

Early 1914. 

In April 1914 I left my practice in New Zealand for a 
short tour through the American, British, and Conti- 
nental surgical clinics. 

After having visited all the important clinics in 
the United States — the famous Mayos of Rochester, 
Murphy's at Chicago, Cushing's at Boston, and others 
at Cleveland, Baltimore, and Philadelphia, I finally 
arrived at New York. 

When visiting the clinic at the German hospital at 
Philadelphia, I, with other visiting surgeons, principally 
Americans or German-Americans, was invited to tea 
and cake, or cake and beer, in the reception-room of 
the hospital. 

As the day was very hot we all drank iced German 
lager beer, and, when leaving the room, were presented 
with a gilt " wish-bones " holding ribbons of the German 
national colours. 

All of the American and German- American doctors 



A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

wore (ho ribbons on their coats, but 1 put mine iu my 
pocket as a enrio. 1 olid not wish to be thought bo 

have iWmrtu sympathies, although I had drunk their 
lager boor. In Now Zealand the Germans have never 
boon appreciated as they have boon in England. Per- 
haps t ho air of the Pacific gives one a truer perspective 
OJ some things as they are. 

At Now York I delayed sailing two days, in order to 
avoid a German boat, and reached England by the 
Holland Anionoan boat AVtfenniM in July. Wo had on 
board the /iV.Wnfom a very largo number of Germans, 
and as usual they wore chiefly noticeable for their great 
prow oss at meals, and for their noisy mot hod of eating. 
Thoy drank much " good German boor " and tilled the 
rooms with German smoke and German gutturals. 
Thoy aro not attractive fellow-travellers. 

On arriving in England I proceeded to Aberdeen, 
whore the animal meeting o. the British Medical 
Association was being held, and to which I was a 

t>gate 

a. Aberdeen we had a vejrj large number oi km 

\ surgeons and physicians and men from 

'\ c\c-\ pail of the world As usual there v 
mam Germans wad i ten lustrians 

NVe rious ini ident towards 

c: j-.-.'.y 

o all the delegates from the British k •... 

oign rof . ? 
> es A ;\i A is: :-..> n ie.e 



PROM PEACE TO WAIfc 

had been about in. the morning, not one was present 
at the evening reception. They had all departed 
silently, and had said good-bye to no one. 

Germany and Austria had sent out their messages, 
and the medicals returned with all speed. 

Wc were then, on the eve of war, hut done of us at 
Aberdeen thought that we would be in it, 0T that we 
were then rushing swiftly to great events. 

The Austrian note to Hcrbia was being discussed. 
Oermany's action was doubtful. Kussia plainly said 

that she would not stand by and tamely see Serbian 
Slavs humiliated by their powerful neighbours. In 
spite of the cloudiness of the political atmosphere and 
the slight oppressiveness none really expected lightning 
and thunder, or that any spirit would 

in throw confine with n. moriafsh'H voice 

<',<;/ fl.i.v'i': ! and I' 1 . ulijj fin; <J<. 

On the 3rd August Sir Edward Grey, in the 
House of Commons, in a serious speech, reviewed the 
European situation. With convincing eloquence he 
showed how anxiously lie had striven to maintain 
peace, and exactly defined England's attitude in certain 
possible contingencies. 

The excitement all over the country was tremendous. 
The air was electrical with coming events, ■■>, spark would 

set the firmament ablaze. One could almost see the 

peoples of Russia, Germany, Austria, Prance, Belgium 
and Serbia gaze questioningly, anxiously, across the 

Channel at the J;, land Kingdom, and wondering in that 
tense moment, What would England do? 



4 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

Then flaring headlines in the press told that Liege, 
the great eastern fortress and arsenal of Belgium, had 
been furiously bombarded by the German artillery, 
and that Bethmann-Hollweg, the German Chancellor, 
had declared that a solemn treaty guaranteeing the 
neutrality of Belgium was of no more value than a scrap 
of paper. 

Then England declared war against Germany, and 
on the 4th of August we knew that England was to take 
her place in the titanic world-war and step into the all- 
engulfing struggle. 

So here it was at last. War with Germany ! The 
restrained hostility of years was now no longer concealed, 
the long-pent-up passions were now let loose. Men 
seemed to breathe easier, and an air of relief pervaded 
the country. 

England was like a sick man after a consultation 
with the surgeons. He looks eagerly and anxiously 
at the surgeons, hoping that no operation may be 
necessary, but dreading and expecting that it may. 
Once told by them that an operation is necessary 
in order that he may live, his doubts and hesitation 
disappear, and he agrees to submit and to undergo the 
drastic measures and emerge a strong and whole man. 
There is a relief that he has decided and the mind 
becomes tranquil. 

The gravity of the issue was realised in England 
in those early August days. Those entitled to speak 
with authority pronounced that the war would be a big 
war — the greatest since the beginning of time — and 



FROM PEACE TO WAR 5 

that the men and women of our day and generation 
would have to pass through sorrow and tribulation 
and wade through dark and troubled waters before the 
end would be finally achieved. 

The justness of England's quarrel was everywhere 
acknowledged, except in the land of the enemy, and the 
exposure of the tortuous and insidious German diplomacy 
stirred up the English sense of straight dealing and 
fairplay. 

On 6th August I motored down from the Highlands 
to Edinburgh, through the Pass of Killiecrankie and some 
of the loveliest scenery in Scotland. 

Everywhere were signs of mobilisation. Khaki 
soldiers and " mufti " recruits at every depot and around 
recruiting sergeants. The price of petrol had suddenly 
risen — why, nobody quite knew, but somebody was 
making money out of it, we were sure. At one town 
I paid ten shillings for a two-gallon tin. 

In the evening I reached Queensferry, but was not 
allowed to cross at that hour. As the ferry would not 
be going again till next morning I motored back to 
Dunfermline, and having stopped the night there, re- 
turned early in the morning to the Ferry. This time I 
got across with my car. The Firth of Forth presented 
a very busy scene that morning. Torpedo boats and 
naval craft of all sorts and sizes were dashing about, 
and in the distance were the large dark outlines of big 
ships of war. 

From Queensferry a rapid run brought me to Edin- 
burgh, where the whole talk in hotel smoking-rooms, at 



6 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

table, and on the street, was of war. The kilted soldier 
was looked at with more interest as he walked the streets, 
and appeals were placarded on every prominent place 
for new recruits. 

The morning papers announced that the House of 
Commons had passed a war vote of one hundred million 
pounds, and that Kitchener had asked for five hundred 
thousand men to join the army. 

The Cabinet, like a good physician, was giving the 
nation its medicine in small doses during these early days. 
Doctors will tell you that small doses frequently repeated 
are so much better than a big dose taken at one wry 
mouthful, for a big heroic dose taken at one gulp often 
causes nausea. The hundred million pounds and the 
five hundred thousand men made the first teaspoonful 
of the national physic which was to help get rid of 
the fatty degeneration and change our sleeping, sluggish 
strength into the crouch and spring and hit of the prize 
fighter. 

Next day I took train for London in order to offer 
my medical service to the War Office. There was an 
urgent demand for surgeons to volunteer for active 
service, and at this particular juncture good surgeons 
who were free to go were not very plentiful. As I 
was on a tour of surgical clinics at this time I decided to 
do my bit for the country and the men in the field. 
Having nothing to do when I reached London that 
evening, I strolled into a music hall and heard " God 
Save the King," " Eule, Britannia/' the " Marseillaise," 
the Russian, Belgian, and Serbian national hymns — all 



FROM PEACE TO WAR 7 

blared out to cheering and shouting crowds, who seemed 
to thoroughly enjoy " being at war." It was reminiscent 
of the days of the Boer War in 1899 : 

"'Alea jacta est' — The die is cast." 

Early next day I visited the Medical Department of 
the War Office at Whitehall, and volunteered as a 
surgeon with the Expeditionary Army to France. Two 
days afterwards the War Office sent me a note requesting 
me to call at the office and be examined to see if I was 
physically fit. So I did. The physical examination was 
carried out with amazing celerity, and I was handed on 
as " fit." The genial old army doctor appointed for 
this duty of examining his younger colleagues made 
his diagnosis on sight almost, and toyed easily with his 
stethoscope while he inquired about the state of the 
teeth and the digestion. 

I was then ushered into another office and was duly 
appointed a Temporary Lieutenant in the Royal Army 
Medical Corps. 

All the civilian surgeons accepted for service with the 
army — with the exception of a few consulting surgeons 
— were given the rank of Temporary Lieutenant. 
Seniority or special skill or previous war experience 
mattered nothing. I had already served as a Civil 
Surgeon, attached to the Royal Army Medical Corps 
during the South African War, and had a medal and four 
clasps from that campaign, and since that period had 
been surgeon to an important hospital in New Zealand, 
and was a retired Captain in the New Zealand Medical 



8 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

Corps. That, however, did not entitle me to hold any- 
higher rank than the young medical man who had com- 
pleted his medical training only a week ago. Many 
able medical men all over the country had voluntarily 
left lucrative practices and important surgical and 
medical staff appointments in big London and provincial 
hospitals and were enrolled as Lieutenants in the Royal 
Army Medical Corps, on the same footing as junior 
medical men who had perhaps been their pupils but a 
few weeks before. We all ranked below the regular 
officers of the Royal Army Medical Corps. Volunteers 
for combatant commissions who had had previous 
experience were given rank accordingly. Some dis- 
crimination was made in the combatant arm, and rightly 
so. No discrimination was made in the medical service, 
and undoubtedly that was a mistake. The same lack 
of organised control was exhibited at every turn in the 
medical service. Men with imperfect professional skill 
and experience were given duties which should have been 
entrusted only to men fully possessed of those qualifica- 
tions. This criticism is not merely a destructive one. 
Criticism is absolutely necessary at certain times, and 
there are some mistakes in policy which should be freely 
ventilated. This same policy was pursued by the Army 
Medical Department during the South African War, 
and was very openly discussed. This led to drastic 
changes in the organisation of the Royal Army Medical 
Corps, following on the Commission of Inquiry set up 
by Mr. Brodrick (now Lord Midleton). In this war, 
I regret to say, the old leaven has again appeared, 



FROM PEACE TO WAR 9 

and its re-appearance has aroused considerable com- 
ment and been a cause of inefficiency. 

After having been given my commission I was told 
to procure a uniform — Sam Browne belt, a revolver, 
blankets, and other campaigning kit — and to be prepared 
to move in forty-eight hours. With great difficulty I 
managed to get some sort of equipment together. The 
military tailors were working at high pressure, and when 
asked to make a coat or breeches in a certain time 
simply said, " It can't be done." By skilful diplomacy 
I got a coat in one place, a pair of riding breeches in 
another, puttees at another, leggings elsewhere, and so 
on. One could not then obtain khaki shirts or ties in 
London. I did not get a revolver, although this was 
on the list of things necessary. Neither did I purchase 
a sword. Why a medical officer should be asked to 
carry a sword and a revolver, and at the same time 
wear a Red Cross brassard on the left arm, I am at a loss 
to understand. I have asked many senior medical 
officers of what use a revolver and sword were to a doctor 
on active service, and the only reply I could get was that 
they were useful to defend the wounded. It would have 
been much more sensible for the War Office to tell each 
medical officer to get several pairs of rubber gloves for 
dressings and operations. I sometimes wondered if the 
War Office expected the surgeons to perform amputa- 
tions with a sword. However, I did not get a revolver, 
and I did not get a sword. Later on, in France, I have 
seen mild-looking young surgeons arrive at the front 
armed to the teeth, with swords, revolvers and ammuni- 



10 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

tion, clanking spurs, map cases, field-glasses and com- 
passes strung all round them, and on their left arm the 
brassard with the Red Cross. We called them " Christ- 
mas trees." 

At last my equipment was complete, and I 
received orders to go to Aldershot and report to the 
Assistant Director of Medical Services for duty. 

I was now a " Surgeon in Khaki " and part of that 
great military hammer — the British Expeditionary 
Force. 

When I arrived at Aldershot the town seemed 
deserted. The majority of the big barracks were empty. 
We were told that the British Army had just left for the 
Continent, and that the Aldershot command, under 
General Haig, had gone to a man. Aldershot was rapidly 
preparing to receive and train recruits, mobilise rein- 
forcements, and keep up a steady flow of men to replace 
casualties. This was great news. When we left London 
we did not know that the British Expeditionary Army 
had gone. 

The A.D.M.S. (Assistant Director of Medical Services) 
put me on duty at the Cambridge Military Hospital at 
Aldershot, while awaiting orders for the front. Several 
surgeons awaiting orders were already here, and we all 
billeted at the Victoria Hotel. We were soon at work 
examining and passing recruits, inoculating troops 
against typhoid, and vaccinating all who had no con- 
scientious objections. Some had " conscientious " 
objections to inoculation. Soldiers should not be 



FROM PEACE TO WAR 11 

allowed liberty of conscience in these matters. They 
should be made immune against typhoid and smallpox 
at " the word of command " in spite of the screechings 
of fanatics suffering from distorted cerebration. 

Our duty at the recruiting depots was a very amus- 
ing one. We here came in contact with the first 
hopefuls of Kitchener's new army. The first call to 
arms generally brings in a very motley crowd. The 
best of the recruits do not turn up during the first few 
days, as these have generally some domestic or business 
matters to arrange. It was the " First Footers " we got 
in these days at Aldershot. 

Another medical officer and myself took over one 
depot. We arrived at 8.30 a.m. Standing in a strag- 
gling two-deep line before the depot door were about 
three hundred men of the most variegated texture — 
some lean, some fat, some smart, some unkempt, but 
all looking very cheerful and hopeful. A smart R.A.M.C. 
sergeant is waiting at the door with a list of their names. 
It is our duty to examine physically this first batch of 
three hundred, to see if they are fit enough to train to 
fight Germans. Ten men are marched into the depot. 
Each doctor takes five at a time. At the word of 
command they strip and the doctor begins. He casts 
a professional eye rapidly over the nude recruit. A 
general look like this to a trained eye conveys a lot. 
The chest is examined, tongue, mouth, and teeth looked 
at. The usual sites for rupture are examined. About 
three questions are asked : " Any previous illness ? " 
" Age ? " " Previous occupation % " A mark is placed 



12 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

against the name, the nude Briton is told to clothe 
himself, and the examination is over. It is done at 
express speed, and although the examination is not 
very thorough it is sufficient to enable an experienced 
man to detect most physical defects. If a man passed, 
he was put down for foreign service. Some had slight 
defects and were put down for home defence. Some 
had glaring defects and were turned down altogether. 
We had all sorts of derelicts turn up. One weary-looking 
veteran, unwashed and with straw sticking in his hair, 
indicative of a bed in a haystack the previous night, 
was blind in one eye and very lame. A draper's 
assistant from a London shop had a twisted spine, an 
old soldier had syphilitic ulcers on the legs, some had 
bad hearts from excessive smoking, some bad kidneys 
from excessive drinking, some young men were really 
sexagenarians from hard living, and so on. They were 
old men before their time. The occupations of our 
recruits were as diverse as their shapes and constitutions 
— a runaway sailor, a Cockney coster, a draper's assist- 
ant, a sea cook, a medical student, a broken-down parson, 
an obvious gaolbird, and a Sunday-school teacher. 

" Cook's son, duke's son, son of a belted earl, 
Son of a Lambeth publican, they're all the same to-day." 

Before the doctor the son of a prize fighter makes 
a better showing than the son of a consumptive bishop. 
We had orders not to be too strict with our physical 
examination. We were not to turn a man down if he 
could be usefully employed in any State service during 
the war. For instance, many of the " weeds " amongst 



FROM PEACE TO WAR 13 

the young men, the cigarette victims, the pasty-faced, 
flat-chested youths, those who had lived down dark 
alleys and in unhygienic surroundings all their lives, 
were all capable of being made into better men. Regular 
meals, plain food, good quarters, baths, cleanliness 
and hard work, marching, drilling and gymnastics, 
made these slouching, dull-eyed youths into active, 
smart men. They then held their heads up, breathed 
the free air, lost their sullenness, and became cheerful. 
Some of the recruits were not fit to be made into soldiers, 
and work could always be found for them. There are 
so many openings for the willing man at this time, be it 
cook's assistant, mess servant, officer's servant, orderly, 
or bootmaker's help. 

It was always an interesting sight to see the sergeant 
and corporal drill these clumsy recruits, and show 
them how to walk, and where to place their feet. The 
army drill sergeant has a very caustic wit and a 
wonderful fund of cutting comments. He knows his 
audience well, and with a few crisp epithets can galvanise 
a sluggish recruit or a slouching company into some- 
thing instinct with alertness. 

On 21st August, six surgeons, including myself, 
were ordered to hold ourselves in readiness for service 
abroad. We were told to overhaul our kits thoroughly, 
think out all necessary things, and not to have any 
excessive baggage. None of us had. The Wolseley 
valise held our little all. 

The last good-byes were said, and at 4 p.m. we 
entrained at Aldershot for our journey to " somewhere 



14 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

in France." We were all very glad to be off. We 
were all very curious to see and take part in the romance 
and adventures of the great battles that we knew 
would be sure to take place. 

Romance ! Adventure ! Very soon we were up 
against cold facts, and there was no romance or pomp 
and circumstance then. 



CHAPTER II. 
LE HAVRE AND HARFLEUR. 

At 12 p.m. we detrained at Southampton, hungry and 
thirsty. Owing to lack of foresight we had had nothing 
to eat since breakfast. The night was a beautiful one, 
and a voyage across channel sounded very inviting. 
We marched our 350 E.A.M.C. orderlies on to our trans- 
port, the Braemar Castle, and the officers tried to find a 
place to sleep. We managed to get some corners in 
the smoking-room, and curled up as best we could in the 
cramped places. The ship was packed full of troops, 
and we learned that we were the first reinforcements for 
the Expeditionary Army. We had two generals on 
board and the headquarter staff of a new division. Our 
destination was to be Le Havre. At 2 a.m. we steamed 
out, followed by several other transports crowded with 
soldiers. Torpedo-boat destroyers kept watchful eyes 
on us across channel, and twice a huge searchlight 
played all round us from far out at sea. The navy 
was watching on the deep waters. The soldiers on 
board slept on the deck, on hatches, anywhere, and 
they were all up and cheerfully carolling at dawn. When 
a soldier wakes his first thought is for food, and at 
5 a.m. they were all discussing bully beef and biscuits. 



16 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

The ship's cook had prepared cauldrons of tea, — and 
Tommy loves tea. One wag after breakfast stood on 
a hatch reciting, " Dearly beloved brethren, the Scripture 
moveth us in sundry places," to a congregation of grimy- 
faced soldiers. 

At 12.30 midday we sighted Le Havre, and in two 
hours were tied alongside the wharf. The disembarka- 
tion rapidly followed, and at 4 p.m. we were on the 
march through Le Havre to our encampment. As we 
steamed into Le Havre there was a scene of the wildest 
enthusiasm, and the whole harbour front was a mass 
of cheering men and women and children. ' Vive 
FAngleterre ! " " Vive Tommy ! " " Vive Tentente 
cordiale ! " Flags and handkerchiefs were waved from 
every window, and the picture of enthusiastic welcome 
was most inspiring. Our men seemed to thoroughly 
enjoy it, and cheered and yelled their throaty greetings 
as loudly and as heartily as the French. One would 
call in a bull voice, " Are we downhearted ? " and the 
reply, " No ! " from thousands of throats, echoed and 
reverberated over the sea front. 

Then would come a piping voice, " Do we like 
beer ? " followed by a unanimous roar of " Yes." The 
French welcome was a spontaneous and enthusiastic 
one, and Le Havre, gay with bunting and twined flags, 
shouted itself hoarse that day. I visited Le Havre some 
months later and saw a crowded British transport 
arrive. There was no cheering, no flags, no excitement. 
At the wharf was a big hospital ship, and wounded 
soldiers were being carried aboard by stretcher-bearers. 



LE HAVRE AND HARFLEUR 17 

The French had, since August, passed through some 
days of disappointment and despair, and the German 
was still in France. The frenzied ecstasy of that welcome 
of August, the gifts of flowers, of fruit, of wine were 
no longer there, but deep down there was still the same 
welcome, unspoken but warm and sincere. 

A dusty march of eight miles on a hot, blistering 
road brought us to our camp at Harfleur. We were 
indeed on historic ground. Close by were the remains 
of the old Castle of Harfleur that Henry V. and his men- 
at-arms stormed in the long ago. 

On this same field Henry is said to have addressed 
his soldiers : 

" And you good yeomen, 
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here 
The mettle of your pasture ; let us swear 
That you are worth your breeding." 

It was on this field and at that time that old Bardolph 
said : 

" Would I were in an alehouse in London. 
I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety." 

So here again, in the twentieth century, were some 
thousands of good yeomen whose limbs were made in 
England, and a pot of ale would have been relished by 
all, for the day had been a thirsty one. 

Our arrival at camp was not expected. The com- 
mandant seemed very surprised to see us, but told us 
to make ourselves at home. We had no kits, no 
blankets, no tents, no food — all had been left on the 
wharf — and no hot water was procurable. We made 



18 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

a meal off our " iron rations," which consist of a small 
waterproof cover holding a tin of bully beef, biscuits, 
pepper and salt and tea. Pipes were lit and we then 
lay down as we were, under the lee of a haystack, and 
slept till bugle-call, when we awoke, cold and damp 
with dew. The nights were very cold at this time 
and the days terribly hot. 

The camp at Harfleur had about five or six thousand 
men, composed of representatives of all arms of the 
service — Highlanders, Guardsmen, Engineers, and details 
from dozens of other regiments. We were reinforce- 
ments. Rumours were coming through at this time 
that all Was not well with our army, and we were dis- 
quieted to hear that it was being steadily pushed back 
and fighting desperately. The retirement of our army 
occasioned anxiety at Le Havre, our principal base at 
that time, and the reinforcements at Harfleur could 
not be joined up till the position became clearer. 

At Harfleur we got little authentic news. We 
lived on rumours, and some of these were of the most 
extraordinary kind. There was one rumour that came 
through, and the Tommies fully believed it. It was 
said that the Germans cut off the right hand of every 
captured stretcher-bearer, and killed every prisoner of 
the combatant rank. Our men were quite determined 
to die fighting, and the stretcher-bearers asked for 
guns. The day after our arrival in camp we were given 
tents, and these were pitched in the morning. Twelve 
men were put to each tent, but blankets were few and 
we could only give four blankets to each tent. Next 




A ROAD OBSTRUCTION NEAR HARFLEUR. 





HARFLEUR — OUR SLEEPING QUARTERS. 



LE HAVEE AND HAEFLEUE 19 

day the tents were struck and packed away for some 
unknown reason, and that night we all had to sleep 
in the open. The officers' kits arrived on the second 
day, and on the fourth day we were told to take from 
them only what was absolutely necessary. It was said 
that our kits were to be either packed away or burned. 
It was said also that the whole camp equipment, tents, 
blankets, etc., were to be burned. Later in the day 
this order was countermanded and we again took 
possession of our kits. We guessed from all these 
various orders that the position at the front was un- 
certain, and, as history has since shown, such was the 
case. On our fourth day at Harfleur a flying man 
arrived in his aeroplane from England, and we all 
crowded round to know what the latest news was. 
He had none to give, but told us that he had flown 
over a part of the German army. I think that he 
brought some important information, for that afternoon 
the whole camp was set to work digging trenches 
right across the front of the camp. We had more 
rumours of " tremendous British losses," " breakdown 
of French mobilisation," " stubborn fighting," but 
nothing authentic reached us. 

However, work proceeded feverishly in the camp. 
Harfleur was on the main road leading from the north 
to Le Havre. It was said that the Germans were ad- 
vancing, and this was true. A raiding force of 20,000 
men — one German division — of cavalry, gunners, and 
infantry — the latter on fast motor-lorries — was cer- 
tainly moving on Le Havre, and the intention was to 



20 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

destroy the British base depot, burn our huge stores, 
and capture and sink all the shipping and blow up the 
railways. Our camp was to delay this raid till the 
French could move up some divisions. Accordingly, 
lines of trenches were dug across the turnip fields 
and meadows. The farmhouses were surrounded by 
trenches and put into a state of defence. The doctors 
and stretcher-bearers were ordered to occupy an 
orchard about 500 yards in rear of the trenches. There 
was an extraordinary resemblance between one old 
farmhouse adjoining the camp and the famous 
farmhouse of Hougoumont at Waterloo. There was 
an old chapel in the centre of the farm, near 
to the big two-storied stone dwelling. Behind the 
chapel were the wine cellars and stables. To the 
right of the house was a long orchard surrounded 
by a stone wall about 5 feet high. The farmhouse 
and farmyard were surrounded by a high stone wall. 
Also there was a big gateway as at Hougoumont. In- 
side and lining the stone walls were tall pine trees. 
Our men soon began to make some alterations in the 
quaint old Norman place. The lower branches of the 
trees were lopped off. Trenches were made inside 
the stone wall and stones were pulled out of the base 
for loopholes for rifles, so that our men could lie in the 
ditch and fire through the bottom of the wall. The 
same thing was done in the orchard, and men of the Rifle 
Brigade were told off to line its walls when the time 
came. This farm, if exposed to artillery, of course 
would have been a death-trap, but against infantry 



LE HAVRE AND HARFLEUR 21 

or cavalry would have been a very hornet's nest 
for the enemy to attack. The gateways were pulled 
down, barricades were placed across the gaps, and 
machine-guns controlled the angles and were able 
to sweep the open spaces, should a rush be made, with 
a hail of lead. 

All was ready for a second Hougoumont, and the 
picture was completed by the old farmer's wife, who 
was ordered to leave the farm, but who firmly refused 
to budge. Had the Germans come, like her ancient 
prototype on that June day at Waterloo, she would 
most likely have taken shelter at the foot of the cross 
in the chapel. 

But the Germans did not come, and history is 
deprived of a moving and stirring story. 

It was tragic but ludicrous to see the blank despair 
and consternation on the face of the old farmer when 
we started to lop down some of his trees, dig trenches 
round his farm and through his turnip fields. Knowing 
very little about the war, and only vaguely interested 
in the invasion of France, he was deeply concerned 
about his turnips and his trees. Everything, however, 
was put right for him before we left. 

When all our preparations for defence were complete 
two German aeroplanes passed over us going towards Le 
Havre. Here they were fired on, and they then returned 
to have a further look at Harfleur and circled slowly 
over our camp. As we had no aircraft guns they 
descended fairly low, and I think must have seen 
everything there was to see. We had field-glasses out 



22 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

and could easily discern the black cross painted on the 
wings of the Taube. 

So there we were in our trenches commanding the 
roads to Le Havre, with a Hougoumont and an orchard, 
and stone walls lined with riflemen. History, so far, has 
not recorded how we " held the gate '* to Le Havre with- 
out firing a shot and without losing a man, but I am 
sure that it was our preparations, seen by the enemy 
aeroplanes, that deterred the Germans from coming on. 
It was a raiding German force, and a raiding force has 
no time to tackle defences and strongly held positions. 
A brigade of French cavalry moved across our front and 
rode as a big cavalry screen towards the advancing 
raiders. Fifteen thousand French troops followed them ; 
and when twelve miles from our camp the Germans 
turned back, the menace was over, and we breathed 
again. 

A fast scouting motor-car containing three Prussian 
officers ran headlong into a barricade cleverly placed 
across a road about ten miles from Harfleur. A ditch, 
broad but shallow, was made across the road near a curve, 
and artfully concealed with gravel laid on thin planking 
across the top. The car rushed right on to this and was 
upset. Some concealed French cavalry then rode up 
and captured the party. 

The French officer who made the capture told me that 
the German officers were livid with anger when he and 
his men rode up with drawn sabres. One of the German 
officers had a revolver in his hand, which he flung 
violently at the head of the chauffeur,. 



LE HAVRE AND HARFLEUR 23 

This defence of the road at Harfleur was one of 
those minor incidents of the war which has been forgotten 
or ignored in the swirl of the big happenings at that 
time. The situation of Le Havre and Harfleur was then 
one of grave peril and gave rise to considerable anxiety. 
One need not have been on the spot to grasp the 
dangerous possibilities. Our defence of Harfleur ended 
tamely. We were told one day that Lord Kitchener 
was at Le Havre and had ordered the evacuation of the 
big base by the British. That night we were ordered 
by our commandant to strike the camp, move into 
Le Havre, and embark on transports for a destination 
unknown. 

The day before we left Le Havre some British 
stragglers from our retreating army turned up in camp. 
About twenty-five dirty, grimy, footsore men, with 
unkempt hair and stubbly beards, wandered in and told 
us that they had lost their regiments and their way after 
Mons . Since then they had been gipsying through France 
towards the coast. Sometimes they got a lift on a 
farmer's cart, but mostly they walked. They said that 
the French people had treated them very well, and they 
certainly did not look hungry. As usual, they told most 
harrowing tales. One man said that the whole army 
had been captured by an army of twenty million 
Germans ! 

On the morning of our last day at Harfleur we were 
all thrilled by the visit of a German spy. I have said 
previously that when the trenches were being dug 
at Harfleur the medical detachment was sent to an 



24 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

orchard in the rear. A road led past the gate of this 
orchard. At the gateway we had two of our men on 
sentry-go. Farther down the road was a French sentry 
with a fixed bayonet. At 3 a.m. a powerful two- 
seater automobile dashed up this road and pulled up at 
the gateway. The driver had on a heavy khaki motor 
overcoat and a khaki cap. His face was muffled in a 
khaki scarf. An officer, also in khaki, stepped out and 
began questioning our men at the gate. He asked 
how many men were in the camp ; were there any big 
guns, and where were they ? Had any ammunition 
been brought up that day ? Our sentries were heavy 
north - countrymen, recently enlisted, and did not 
tumble to the fact that it was an unusual thing for a 
British officer to put such questions to a private on 
sentry-go. The officer then got on his car and went 
back in the direction of Le Havre. We were all agreed 
that the strange officer was a spy dressed up to look 
like a British officer. The French told us that Le Havre 
was full of spies at this time, and that they had made 
many arrests of suspects. 



CHAPTER III. 
FKOM LE HAVKE TO THE BAY OF BISCAY. 

We knew that serious events must have happened 
when K. of K. had personally visited Le Havre and had 
ordered its evacuation. It was Napoleon who said that 
it was a disastrous thing to attempt to change an 
army's base during the actual progress of a war. But 
in this war old maxims and trite sayings go by the 
board. Anyone having the most elementary know- 
ledge of war, and what an army in the field signifies, will 
agree that even if changing a base may not lead to dis- 
aster, it is nevertheless a very formidable and a very 
risky move. Le Havre at this time was a huge base from 
which our army in the field was receiving its supplies. 
Transports conveying all the necessaries for a fighting 
army unloaded their cargoes on its wharves. From 
there the supplies were sent by train to the advanced 
base in the centre of France, and from there onward to 
the various refilling stations. The destruction of Le 
Havre, or its temporary loss as a base, would have 
been a calamity. The army would have ceased to 
receive food, waggons, ammunition and equipment, 
guns, horses, forage, reinforcements, hospital supplies, 
etc. An army without ammunition and food is no longer 

25 



26 A SUKGEON IN KHAKI 

of any fighting value. Think also of the quantities of 
material necessary to supply an army of 70,000 men, 
and this will give some idea of the immense war depot 
Le Havre was at this time. Circumstances must have 
indeed been serious to have necessitated a change of 
base. It meant also that the railway arrangements 
so carefully thought out, and which had so far been 
in operation, would have to be suddenly changed. 
Supply trains would have to be sent to the front from 
some other base, and returning empty supply trains 
and hospital trains would have to be diverted from 
Le Havre to the place chosen as the future base. The 
task was a gigantic one, and was rendered more so 
because it had to be completed in a hurry. 

We reached Le Havre from Harfleur in the late after- 
noon. A large convoy of Belgian ambulances full of 
wounded was moving through the streets towards the 
wharves, and a French Infantry Division passed us in 
full panoply of war going east. Six large transports 
with steam up were lying at the wharves. The wharves 
were a scene of unparalleled activity, and when one got 
right down amidst this activity and looked around, one 
could realise that things were very chaotic. Every one 
was shouting and cursing; contradictory orders were 
given ; some stores which had just been loaded in one 
of the holds of one transport were being again unloaded. 
Through careless handling a huge crate of iron bedsteads 
for a military hospital fell into the sea between the 
ship and the wharf. But as the stores were Government 
property — therefore nobody's property — no one seemed 



LE HAVRE TO THE BAY OF BISCAY 27 

to mind very much. The stage between the ship and the 
big sheds was packed with all sorts of goods in inextric- 
able confusion. Here were bales of hospital blankets 
dumped on kegs of butter, there boxes of biscuits lying 
packed in a corner, with a forgotten hose-pipe playing 
water on them. Inside the sheds were machine-guns, 
heavy field pieces, ammunition, some aeroplanes, crowds 
of ambulance waggons, London buses, heavy transport 
waggons, kitchens, beds, tents for a general hospital, 
stacks of rifles, bales of straw, mountainous bags of oats, 
flour, beef, potatoes, crates of bully beef, telephones and 
telegraphs, water carts, field kitchens, unending rolls of 
barbed wire, shovels, picks, and so on. All had been 
brought into the sheds and left there in a higgledy- 
piggledy fashion. An Army Service man was trying in 
despair to get some forage on board ; a colonel of the 
Medical Staff was trying to get his Base Hospital on 
board. There was apparently no single brain in control, 
and the loading of the ships went on in the most extra- 
ordinary way. Things nearest the ship's side were put 
in first. Part of a Base Hospital was put in with part 
of a Battery, followed by bundles of compressed straw 
fodder and boxes of soap. 

The transport Turcoman was full of troops. There 
seemed to be thousands of them on board, and the decks 
were packed with men. On walking up the gangway I 
was met by the officer commanding the troops, and he 
told me that I could not be allowed on board with any 
men as the ship was already overcrowded. I told him 
that my orders were to embark on the Turcoman, but 



28 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

the reply, " Very sorry indeed, but it can't be done/' 
settled the matter. 

So I descended, and with difficulty picked my way 
along another wharf and found another transport, the 
Cestrian, also a centre of the same scene of bustle and 
activity as the Turcoman. The Qestrian was crowded 
with soldiers, and was being frantically loaded up with 
all sorts of goods, from aeroplanes to bandages. 

I got my men on board and told them to make them- 
selves as comfortable as they could on deck, and after 
some searching round at last found a corner of the 
smoking-room which would serve me for a bed for the 
night. Here my servant dumped down my valise. 

I was unable to find out the destination of the Turco- 
man ; nobody seemed to know, but there were rumours 
that it was to be " somewhere in the Bay of Biscay." 
Nobody knew where the Cestrian was going. As my 
orders were to travel by the Turcoman, and as I was 
really on the Cestrian, I was anxious to find out if the 
destination of the two boats was to be the same port. 
But nobody could tell me, so I lit my pipe of tobacco, 
leaned over the ship's side, and never troubled any more 
about my orders. I really did not know whether the 
Cestrian was going to England or another part of France, 
or the Black Sea for that matter. 

The scene on the Cestrian was a strange one. It was 
now quite dark and the loading of the cargo was carried 
out under electric flares. There were on board 2600 
soldiers and 600 horses. These unfortunate horses 
had been put on board twenty-four hours before the 



LE HAVRE TO THE BAY OF BISCAY 29 

troops embarked, instead of the other way about, and 
the smell from the hot, stifling horse-boxes was over- 
powering. Why these poor beasts were not embarked 
last of all, was a mystery. Imagine 600 horses cooped 
up in narrow boxes during a long, hot, stifling summer 
day, when they could easily have been kept at the horse 
depot close by till the last minute ! 

One horse died before we started, and was slung out 
by ropes on to the wharf. 

This horse episode was the occasion of much scathing 
comment amongst senior officers and old cavalry and 
artillery non-coms. 

It is a pity that some of the higher command — those 
responsible — could not have heard the remarks of these 
knowing old non-commissioned officers. 

At last the ship's holds were full. Gangways were 
up and we dropped slowly down the locks to the Seine 
mouth, and so out into the Channel. We were met by a 
fierce, gusty head wind and welcomed it for the horses' 
sakes. Large wind ventilators were arranged to allow 
the fresh air to reach the horse-boxes. 

Our men slept on the decks, and there were so many 
of them that to step one's way over them would have 
been almost impossible. 

The dining-rooms, cabins, and smoking-rooms were 
full of sleeping or dozing officers. I managed to com- 
mandeer an old sofa cushion, and lay on that in the 
corner of the smoking-room and went to sleep, and 
dreamt of thousands of horses looking reproachfully 
at me out of boxes. 



30 A SUBGEON IN KHAKI 

At break of day we were all up at bugle- call and soon 
washed. The ship's cook was a man of some eminence 
in his profession, for he had provided porridge and milk, 
ham and eggs, bread and butter and tea for our break- 
fast, and, filled with amazement, we sat round to enjoy it. 
Generally of meals on a transport there are none. A 
big cruiser was seen after breakfast to be bearing rapidly 
down on us, and the usual " optimist *' present, after 
carefully observing her through a telescope, pronounced 
her nationality as German, and that it was now a 
watery grave in the Bay of Biscay for 2600 men and 600 
horses. As she came nearer we showed our flag, and she 
displayed the French ensign. We gave her our number 
and dipped our bit of bunting, and the great ironclad 
sheered off. It was a relief to know that she was about, 
and looking after our transports. 

On the way out from Le Havre we passed the United 
States battleship Tennessee, and our men seeing some of 
her sailors standing in a group gazing at us, gave a cheer 
and the usual " Are we downhearted ? No ! " greeting. 
The American sailors gave a real good hearty cheer, and 
yells of f ' good luck " ; but an officer then ran up to them 
and said something, and they became suddenly silent, 
and only waved their hands. They had probably been 
told by their officer that they were " neutrals/' and 
belonged to the battleship of a nation friendly to all the 
belligerents. But we knew that they were with us 
" inside/ 5 and anyhow the Americans have not been 
neutral in their hearts. They are all " for us " and " for 
the Allies." 



LE HAVRE TO THE BAY OF BISCAY 31 

Life on board our transport was uneventful. We 
smoked and slept and ate. There was no room to walk 
about. I never saw such a crowded ship. 

We had on board the complete personnel of a Base 
Hospital, and the medical officer commanding told me 
that he had orders to pitch his hospital at once at 
Nantes in order to take in wounded, as there was a big 
demand for more beds. In spite of his utmost endeavours 
he could not get his hospital equipment on the Cestrian. 

All the instruments, dressings, and X-ray apparatus 
had been left behind for another boat, and he thought 
that he might not be able to get them for another week, 
or perhaps longer. 

This was but another example of the lack of control 
at Le Havre during the change of base ; a hospital was 
badly wanted at Nantes ; all the personnel and half the 
equipment were sent away, and the other half left on the 
wharves. We learned later that the holds of our boat 
the Cestrian were not full when she left Le Havre, but 
that she had been ordered to leave on account of the 
horses being in such a bad state from the hot, stifling 
atmosphere in their quarters below decks. 

It was necessary to proceed to sea to get a current 
of cold air down the ventilating shafts to the horses' 
cribs. This senseless blundering over the horses led 
to the death of several of the poor beasts, and besides 
crippled a Base Hospital at a time when it was urgently 
needed. Over and over again during this war one has 
met with instances of a want of reasoned judgment on 
the part of senior controlling officers. In certain 



32 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

emergencies they have been unable to " orientate " 
themselves — to use an Americanism — or to " envisage " 
a situation. 

Blunders, slips, miscalculations, carelessness, in time 
of war mean the loss of valuable lives. We want alert, 
clear- brained, thinking men in all responsible posts. 
If a senior officer shows himself lacking in these essentials 
— then he must go. Many of the responsible French 
army officials at the beginning of the campaign proved 
themselves lacking in initiative and judgment. Jofire 
sent these officers to " Limoges." We should send our 
incapables to " Stellenbosch." Both places are indica- 
tive of a quiet retirement, where they can live without 
thinking, where there are quiet clubs, cigars and cock- 
tails, and comfortable chairs for an afternoon nap. 
The good ship Cestrian was a very fine steamer, but a 
very dirty one at this epoch. She badly wanted a clean- 
up. The lavatories and water-closets were indescribably 
filthy and foul, and acrid ammoniacal fumes permeated 
the ship. No attempt was made at ordinary cleanliness, 
and no disinfectants were employed. Words could 
hardly describe the appallingly filthy state of the urinals 
and closets. It would have been so very simple to have 
made things cleaner. A sanitary squad could have 
been arranged in a few minutes to keep these places 
tidy and to maintain some control. But what was 
every one's business was nobody's business, and nothing 
was done during the three days and nights we were at 
sea. 

As our ship approached the mouth of the Loire we 




Transport "Cestrian'' in the Bay of Biscay. 




The "Cestrian" at St. Nazaire. 



LE HAVRE TO THE BAY OF BISCAY 33 

saw three large transports ahead of us and four more 
were following up behind. We slowly steamed through 
the narrow lock entrance to St. Nazaire and, after the 
usual delay in getting alongside, finally tied up to the 
wharf. The day was stiflingly hot and dusty, and we 
were glad to leave our ship and get on shore. The 
horses were at once unloaded, and very bad the poor 
beasts looked. It was pleasant, however, to see them, 
once they were on land, looking round and neighing 
with evident pleasure. 

The troops were marched out to a large field or a dry 
salt marsh some few miles out of town. A rest camp 
or camp for army details was being rapidly arranged, 
and areas were being marked out for the various units, — 
gunners, engineers, and infantry regiments, and there 
was considerable bustle. No tents had yet arrived 
and the camp was quite exposed. Fortunately, the 
weather was good and sleeping out was no hardship. 
I reported my arrival to the camp commandant, and he 
said that he did not know where I had to go or what I 
had to do. He told me to " wait round and see what 
turned up." At this period one's arrival was always 
unexpected. We always got a smile of welcome and 
were always told to " wait round." There was never 
any demonstrative hurry. John Bull on the job doesn't 
make much fuss. I think that he does not make enough. 
As there was nothing to do apparently, and as nobody 
seemed to Want me, I strolled back to the city of St 
Nazaire and had afternoon tea in a pleasant cafe. 

As I was leaving the cafe I met the A.D.M.S. 
3 



34 A SUKGEON IN KHAKI 

(Assistant Director of Medical Services). He asked 
me what duty I was on. I told him that I had just 
arrived and had reported my arrival, and was really 
wondering myself why I was at St. Nazaire. The 
A.D.M.S. said, " We are wanting medical officers urgently 
at the front. Would you please come with me." On 
our way to the office he explained that '* the medical 
service had received some losses — casualties and missing, 
that there were a lot of wounded and a lack of hospital 
necessaries." He asked me if I had any " bandages, 
wool, or lint with me." I had none, of course, and the 
A.D.M.S. said that he had none to spare for the front. 
I thought of the Base Hospital on the Cestrian landed 
with only half its equipment, and of what a wonderful 
nation we are, and what a magnificent organiser John 
Bull is when he is really " on the job." 

I received written orders from the A.D.M.S. to 
proceed by train at 4 a.m. next day to Le Mans, and 
report arrival and await orders there. Le Mans was the 
" advanced base " of the British army. I learned here 
also that our gallant army was retreating towards Paris, 
and fighting stubbornly against overwhelming numbers 
of Germans flushed with victory, and I was very glad 
to get orders to join up with my countrymen and get a 
chance of " doing my bit " also, 



CHAPTEE IV. 

FROM THE BAY OF BISCAY TO EAST OF PARIS. 

After having received these definite orders I got my 
kit again conveyed to the Cestrian transport and slept 
that night in my old corner of the smoking-room. At 
2.45 a.m. the surgeons detailed to join the army were 
up. A hasty cup of coffee and an apology for a wash — 
and we were down the ship-side, and on the way to the 
gare. The railway station at St. Nazaire at this time 
looked quite picturesque in the early morning. Its 
platforms were covered with straw, and rows of sleeping 
French soldiers lay comfortably around, while a stolid 
Grenadier sentry stood propped against the wall. 
There is no hurry at a French military station. The 
train was timed to start at 4 a.m., but that did not 
matter. At 5 a.m. it was quite ready. " C'est la 
guerre." 

There were five of us travelling together — all medical 
officers — two Scotchmen, one Irishman, one English- 
man, and one New Zealander. A very gruff Railway 
Transport officer gave me a military pass for the party. 
This gave us permission, we noticed, to travel to Paris 
via Le Mans. The pass was signed by the French 
authorities, but we were never asked to show it again. 



36 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

The khaki uniform proclaimed we were British, the 
Sam Browne belt and stars showed we were officers, 
and the red-cross brassards on our left arms indicated 
our particular line of business. As the train moved off 
we wished our Railway Transport officer — an English- 
man — a good morning, but this seemed to offend him, 
for he glared at us. Our Irish surgeon remarked that 
all Railway Transport officers were queer fish and very 
unpopular. Perhaps their particular specialty makes 
them so, but I have never heard an R.T.O. referred to 
in any other but denunciatory terms. A sanguinary 
adjective is always prefixed to the mystic trinity R.T.O. 
It is said that they lead unhappy lives and generally 
die of long, lingering illnesses. We soon settled down 
comfortably in our luxurious first-class carriage and 
tried to get to know each other. No very difficult task 
amongst doctors, who are generally most sociable 
animals. One of us was a specialist in fevers and had 
passed most of his days in typhoid and scarlet fever 
wards. One was a neurologist, with pronounced views 
on the power of suggestion in treating cases of incipient 
insanity. One was a pure physician, who said that the 
surgeons were not men of science but merely craftsmen, 
and were too fond of using the knife. 

The surgeons, as became their calling, treated all 
criticism with good-humoured complaisance. We 
talked a lot about the duties of the doctor in this war, 
and we were all very curious to know the role played 
by a doctor when he was attached to a cavalry 
regiment, to a battery, or to a field ambulance. None 



FROM THE BAY OF BISCAY TO PARIS 37 

of us knew very much about it, but we all were agreed 
that we had somehow to get alongside Mr. Thomas 
Atkins when he was wounded in battle, get him to a safe 
place, and give him of our best. Curiously enough, 
although we were all scattered later on to various units 
of different divisions, I met all my fellow-travellers 
again one time or another in the firing line. One of the 
Scotchmen I met just as he came out from under heavy 
shrapnel fire, and I asked him how he liked it. His 
reply is not printable. One I met in a field ambulance 
later with sleeves rolled up and busy dressing the 
wounds of a crowd of men just brought in from the 
firing line. One I met in a town in northern France 
looking cold and wet and miserable, and asked him also 
how he liked the war. He gave an expressive shrug. 
I have not met anyone yet who liked the war, except 
artillery officers. 

Our train travelled slowly from St. Nazaire along 
the Loire to the capital city of Nantes. This charming 
city is situated on the banks of the delightful river. 
We had a lot of khaki and French soldiers on board the 
train, and as usual they fraternised well together. 
Tommy Atkins gets on amazingly well with the French 
piou-piou, and the French grenadier chaffs Tommy a 
lot and enjoys his company. When they get together 
they exchange caps for a time. This is a sign of un- 
alterable friendship. 

To see a French Cuirassier wearing a khaki cap and 
a Highlander in kilts wearing a Cuirassier's casque 
with its flowing horsetails always excited the merriment 



38 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

and loud " vives " of the French people. The kilts 
of our Highlanders are also greatly admired by the 
French. They were consumed with curiosity to know 
if the Scotchmen wore any trousers under them. Khaki 
was a great novelty along the Loire valley at this time, 
and our appearance roused tremendous enthusiasm 
and applause. At Nantes the good people brought us 
baskets of apples, and little French flags which we duly 
stuck on our coats or caps and wore till the train 
steamed out of the station. 

Crowds of people rushed down to the railway plat- 
form to see us and cheer us on our way. Tommy's 
" Are we downhearted ? " and its stentorian " No ! " had 
a very optimistic sound, and the French liked it. 

At Angers the train stopped two hours, and the 
officers strolled round the town. The men were not 
allowed off the platform. Angers, the ancient capital 
of the old Counts of Anjou, is a delightfully sleepy city. 
A princess of Anjou was in the long ago a Queen of 
England, and a fine statue to her memory stands in the 
centre of the town. It was dressed with an inter- 
twined Union Jack and the Tricolor when we were 
there. 

The old castle of Angers, with its deep moat and 
castellated towers, has withstood the ravages of 
centuries and is one of the finest examples of mediaeval 
military masonry. Our walk through this city excited 
considerable comment and notice. It was Sunday, 
and a big congregation just leaving church stopped 
to stare at us and possibly to wonder why khaki was in 



FROM THE BAY OF BISCAY TO PARIS 39 

Angers. As we passed a cafe crowded with, loungers 
sipping wine and coffee at the little tables on the street, 
all stood up to look at us. We felt very embarrassed 
and did not much like the novel experience, so sat 
round a small table ourselves, and while drinking our 
wine turned round to look at the people also. A French 
colonel caught our eye, and one of our party held a glass 
towards him, saying, " Vive la France ! " The effect 
was theatrical : all jumped up, and lifting their glasses 
shouted, "Vive FAngleterre! " " Vive Fentente cordiale!" 
Several French, officers and citizens with ladies pulled 
up their chairs to our table, and we all drank wine very 
sociably together. One of our party of surgeons had 
been educated as a youth in Belgium and was an 
excellent French linguist. The people were all very 
anxious to hear the latest news. We had none to give 
except that large British reinforcements were coming 
over, and that England was now fairly on the job. In 
these early days of the war, when everything in France 
was " electrical," such sentiments were always cheerfully 
received. We drank a good many toasts before we 
left, and had our photographs taken three times. Just 
before the train started crowds of gentlemen and ladies, 
old and young, shook hands with us in the usual French 
way, with the left hand as often as the right. One 
beautiful and sparkling little French lady embarrassed 
one of us by a sudden warm embrace and a sisterly 
kiss on the cheek. The surprise of the khaki man was 
only momentary, and the lady, in return, was well and 
truly kissed on the lips. We were all sorry to leave 



40 A SUBGEON IN KHAKI 

Angers, the city was charming, the wine was excellent 
and the people were most entertaining. 

After Angers we had a long and dreary night ride to 
Le Mans. One curious incident occurred during the 
night. Our train was pulled into a siding at a small 
station and held there for three hours. At the end of 
this time a train, made up of forty- one huge locomotive 
engines, thundered by at sixty miles an hour going south. 
We were told that these were Belgian engines sent south 
to escape capture by the Germans. 

In the cold shiver of a dark morning we bundled 
out at Le Mans, and at once made a dash for the railway 
buffet and got hot coffee and rolls. I then found my 
way with some difficulty in the darkness to the quarters 
of the A.D.M.S., to whom I had to report our arrival. 
He was in bed when I arrived, but got up and took my 
report. As usual he was surprised to know we were 
coming, and our visit was naturally an unexpected 
pleasure. He told us that we should have gone right 
on to Paris, as surgeons were badly wanted with the 
army which was retreating on to Paris. We were 
always being told that doctors were urgently required 
and were always delayed. We had definite orders to 
get out at Le Mans and report. The orders were in 
writing. No one was more anxious than we were to 
push rapidly on, and we chafed at the continual delays. 
The A.D.M.S. could not tell us when we would be able 
to get away from Le Mans as the train service was 
erratic. We were advised to " hang about the railway 
station " till " some train " started for the front. As 



FROM THE BAY OF BISCAY TO PARIS 41 

this was highly unsatisfactory, I tried to find out how 
matters stood myself. 

The stationmaster did not know when a train would 
start for Paris, as the line was blocked farther on by the 
military mobilisation. I found out, however, that a 
supply train conveying provisions and supplies for our 
men was to leave from Maroc some time during the day. 
Maroc was a small siding five miles from Le Mans. 
Here trains were made up for the various Army Corps. 
Maroc is a desert of sand and a truly desolate spot. 
We got our kits and a box of medical supplies — obtained 
with great difficulty at Le Mans — conveyed to this 
miniature Morocco, and we camped on the sand under 
the doubtful shade of the only two trees the place 
possessed, till 4 o'clock that afternoon. The only 
excitement was seeing a huge locomotive run off: the 
track and block shunting operations for two hours. 
At last our huge supply train was ready. We all got 
into an empty guard's van and disposed our valises in the 
various corners. Two officers of the Royal Flying Corps 
joined us here and found accommodation in a waggon 
loaded with bags of wheat. We all clubbed together 
for mess, and laid in a stock of sardines, bread, butter, 
and a dozen bottles of red wine and cider. We learned 
from our flying friends that the army was retiring every 
day, and was supposed to be making for Paris. 

We got some definite news for the first time of our 
big engagements at Mons, Landrecies, and Le Cateau, 
and how our army was furiously attacked and com- 
pelled to fall back, and that although the retirement at 



42 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

first was precipitate it soon became ordered and steady. 
We were also told that there were over 15,000 casualties, 
and that the medical arrangements had quite broken 
down. However, we had a sublime faith in our own 
countrymen, and knew that they would come out all 
right, somehow, somewhere. 

At daybreak our train reached Tours, and at Blois 
we had a welcome wash and a decent cup of coffee. Our 
quarters in the guard's van had been most cramped 
and uncomfortable, and we were all anxious to leave the 
old tortoise of a train. At midday we passed through 
Orleans, and here French officers told us that the 
Germans were advancing on Paris, and in spite of 
prodigious losses were hacking their way through by 
weight of numbers and numberless batteries of artillery. 
We were told that the British army was to form part 
of the garrison of Paris, that Paris was fully prepared 
for a long siege, and that President Poincare and the 
Government were at Bordeaux. All these rumours 
gave rise to keen discussions, and they certainly helped 
to while the time away in our dreary old van. 

During the night we passed through Paris, and at 
break of day pulled up at the railway siding of 
Coulommiers. 

The railway siding was full of ambulance trains, 
British and French. All the trains were rilled with 
recently wounded men, and we got our first information 
that we were close to the actual scene of fighting. One 
French medical officer had rigged up a small dressing 
station on the station platform. An upturned box 



FKOM THE BAY OF BISCAY TO PABIS 43 

held his dressings, instruments, and antiseptics, and 
he had about twenty-five wounded Frenchmen all 
round him patiently waiting their turn. Most of them 
were slight cases, for the serious ones had already been 
put aboard the hospital trains. 

Coulommiers at this time was the refilling point for 
the Army Service Corps, and our supply train was 
emptied here. 



CHAPTER V. 
THE ADVANCE TO THE MARNE. 

Coulommiers at this time looked a little bit degage. 
It had been occupied by the Germans some days 
previously, and now the British had it. The French 
inhabitants were in Paris. The narrow old streets 
looked very cheerful and inviting when I passed through, 
for our Army Service men had several fires merrily 
blazing at the side of the pave, and the smell of frying 
bacon and roasting coffee beans was inviting and 
appetising. Signs of the German occupation were 
everywhere apparent. Bound the ashes of their fires 
in the side streets and square were the charred remains 
of old and valuable furniture — a carved leg of an old 
chair, a piece of the frame of a big mirror, a bit of a 
door, and so on. I think the German soldier enjoyed 
the novel sensation of cooking his food over burning 
cabinets and tables and chairs made in the times 
of the Louis' of France. Our men were extremely 
careful to avoid damage to French property and made 
their fires of chopped wood logs. Tommy has good 
feelings and is always a gentleman, and he genuinely 
pitied the French in their despoiled towns. 

My orders were to report to the Principal Medical 



THE ADVANCE TO THE MARNE 45 

Officer of the 5th Division of the 2nd Army. I could 
not find out where the 5th Division headquarters was, 
but ascertained that the 2nd Army headquarters was at 
the small hamlet of Doui, three miles away. My next 
problem was how to get there with my kit. Luckily, 
I found a motor-car driver about to start for the head- 
quarters and he offered me a lift. This driver was one 
of the many gentlemen of leisure who had volunteered 
for service at the beginning of the war. He took out 
his own car at first and it broke down during the retreat, 
so he abandoned it by the roadside and got another 
car, the driver of which had been killed. We set off 
from Coulommiers at a rattling pace and passed part 
of the 3rd Division on the way. The headquarters 
of General Smith-Dorrien, the Commander of the 2nd 
Army, was a little cluster of houses by the roadside, 
and when we arrived the whole staff were standing 
by the road, while the grooms stood near holding their 
horses. Smith-Dorrien with another staff officer was 
poring over a map and indicating some spot on it 
with his finger. The Principal Medical Officer, Colonel 
Porter of the Army Medical Staff, now Surgeon-General 
Porter, was just coming out of a cottage, and I walked 
up, saluted, and reported my arrival. The Colonel 
gave me a cheery greeting, asked if I had breakfasted, 
and noticing the South African War ribbon on my 
tunic, said that as I had seen service before I would 
s'oon be quite at home. He asked me where I came 
from, and when told that it was New Zealand, inquired 
if the trout-fishing was still good. New Zealand seems 



46 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

to be principally known in England for its excellent 
trout streams. 

I was then told to report to the officer commanding 
a section of the 15th Field Ambulance, which was lying 
about 500 yards farther down the road. I reported 

to Major of the Royal Army Medical Corps, 

who told me that he was waiting to evacuate some 
wounded to Coulommiers before moving up to rejoin 
the headquarters of the ambulance which was ad- 
vancing with the 15th Infantry Brigade. There were 
sixteen wounded British in a small farmhouse beside 
the road. They were lying on straw on the floor and 
the wounds of all of them had been dressed. When 
I entered they were drinking milk supplied by the old 
farmer and his wife. This old farmhouse had been 
occupied by the Germans two days previously, and the 
old farmer brought me through the house to show 
what the Huns had done. His two wooden bedsteads 
had been smashed. All his wife's clothes had been 
taken out of a chest of drawers and torn up, and the 
chest had been battered badly with an axe. The 
windows were broken and two legs of the kitchen table 
had been chopped off. An old family clock lay battered 
in a corner, and an ancient sporting gun was broken 
in two. The farmer showed me one of his wife's old 
bonnets which had been thrown into the fire by these 
lovely Germans and partially burned. Fancy burning 
an old woman's bonnet ! All the fowls and chickens 
had been killed. Two German soldiers got into the 
fowlyard and struck all the birds down with their 



THE ADVANCE TO THE MARNE 47 

bayonets. A fine Normandy dog lay dead at the 
garden gate, shot by a German non-commissioned 
officer because the poor beast barked at him. 

The old-fashioned furniture and adornments of the 
house had been destroyed. All of the pictures were 
broken except two — one of these was a framed picture 
of Pope Leo xiil, and the other was one represent- 
ing the Crucifixion. We guessed that the German 
troops must have been Bavarians, who are mostly 
Catholic. 

I have described this wrecked home as it was typical 
of hundreds of others that I have seen in France. 
It all seemed so stupid, so senseless, so paltry, and 
mean. Conceive the frightfulness of burning an old 
lady's bonnet and smashing an old clock that had 
been in the family's possession for three generations, 
and had ticked the minutes to the farmer's folk and 
whose face had been looked at by those long since dead. 
The old farmer was in tears and very miserable. He 
said that the German soldiers were very drunk and had 
brought a lot of bottles of champagne with them, 
round which they spent a very hilarious night. One 
of the men had a very fine voice and sang a German 
drinking song, whilst the others hiccuped the chorus. 
There were certainly a lot of empty champagne bottles 
lying about, and I don't think that the old farmer's 
beverage ever soared above vin rouge, so the bottles 
must have been German loot. 

About eleven o'clock, while we were still waiting 
for returning empty supply waggons to take off our 



48 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

wounded, we heard that some German prisoners were 
being marched in. This caused some excitement, and, 
speaking for myself, I was consumed with curiosity 
to see some specimens of this great German army 
and observe what manner of men they were. Under a 
strong guard of cavalry three hundred prisoners with 
about ten officers were marched into a field close to 
our farmhouse. It was laughable to see our old farmer. 
He rushed frantically up the road, his eyes blazing 
with excitement and joy, and stood gazing at his 
country's enemies with an expression of malicious joy 
and delight. 

I was struck with the appearance of these prisoners. 
They were very tired, absolutely done in, and marched 
along the road with a most bedraggled and weary step. 
Were these the men who had goose-stepped through 
Belgium's stately capital and had pushed the united 
armies of France and England before them in one of the 
most rapid marches in history ? They were utterly 
broken down with fatigue, and their famished expression 
and wolfish eyes betokened the hardships they had 
recently undergone. When they were halted in the 
field they simply rolled on to the ground from sheer 
exhaustion. On looking closer, however, one could 
see that they were fine soldiers, athletic, well-built, 
lean, wiry fellows, with shaven heads and prominent 
features, slim-waisted and broad-shouldered, clothed 
in smart, well-fitting, bluish-grey uniforms, well-shod 
with good serviceable boots, each with a light water- 
bottle clipped to his belt and a haversack over the 



THE ADVANCE TO THE MARNE 49 

shoulder ; certainly no fault could be found with them 
as specimens of muscular and active soldiery. 

The officers, disdaining to show fatigue, sat by 
themselves in a group apart and smoked pipes and 
cigarettes. The famished men were supplied with 
British bully beef and biscuits, and buckets of water 
were brought to them for drink. They at once threw 
off their exhaustion and simply rushed the food. We 
realised that they had been marched to a stop, and that 
the commissariat of that particular Army Corps must have 
broken down. The augury was a good one. Amongst 
them were some slightly wounded men — principally 
hand, scalp, and face wounds. These we dressed, and 
the men seemed very grateful to the medical officers 
for what was done. One of my men, with a slight 
shrapnel wound of the wrist, after I had dressed and 
bandaged it, seized my hand and kissed it. That is 
the German way, perhaps, but un- British, and I do not 
love things German or un- British to-day. One of the 
men had a slight wound, but a very painful one owing 
to a small shell splinter sticking on to a nerve. Lieut. 

M'C administered a few whiffs of chloroform while 

I extracted the fragment of iron. Poor M'C 

remarked to me that this was the first anaesthetic 
that he had administered during the war, although 
he had been through the whole retreat from Mons, 

and that it was for a German. I say poor M'C ; 

this splendid young doctor was killed later on in 
Flanders while gallantly attending wounded in the 
trenches under a hellish shrapnel fire. This group of 
4 



50 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

prisoners belonged to the Jagers of the Prussian Guard, 
one of the best infantry units in the German Army. We 
were all very pleased that they had been bagged, and 
I don't think that they worried much about it them- 
selves. The officers, however, seemed very sullen — 
that also pleased us. 

Shortly after the arrival of the Guard Jagers some 
empty motor supply waggons, returning from the 
front, were stopped. We packed plenty of straw on 
them and put our wounded British and Germans com- 
fortably on top, and sent them all off to the hospital 
train at Coulommiers. Then our commanding officer, 

Major , gave the order to our ambulance drivers 

to harness up the horses and prepare to trek. We 
knew that our army was making a stand at last, and that 
the long retreat from Belgium was over. 

All the morning heavy firing was heard on our front 
towards the river Marne, and we were not sure what 
was happening. We knew that our cavalry was at 
work somewhere, for the Guard Jagers had been 
bagged by our horsemen, but more than that we did 
not know. However, we were soon on the road, and 
following Napoleon's maxim to his Generals — always to 
march on the firing. The roads were terribly dusty, 
the day was hot and sultry, and a blazing sun beat 
mercilessly down upon us. We all cursed our caps, 
and certainly the present khaki cap supplied to our 
officers and men deserves a curse. It gives no pro- 
tection to the head or neck in summer, and in rainy 
weather it is soon soaked. 



THE ADVANCE TO THE MABNE 51 

Marching on foot behind lumbering ambulance 
waggons on a dusty road, and under a hot sun, is no 
picnic. Eyes get full of dust, throat gets parched, feet 
get hot, and the khaki uniform wraps round one like a 
sticky blanket. So for many miles we marched, and 
all the time the sound of the guns became more and 
more distinct and intense. We passed St. Ouen and 
by St. Cyr, and at 4.30 o'clock we seemed to be in the 
centre of the artillery thunder area. Great guns were 
screeching and roaring all round us, and some of the 
enemy's shells were bursting to our left front near the 
road along which we were moving. We were then ordered 
to pull our waggons off the road and bivouac them 
under a clump of trees near at hand in order to conceal 
them from enemy aeroplanes, which were hovering 
high up in the blue. The reason for at times conceal- 
ing a Field Ambulance is that when a column is on the 
march the Field Ambulance has a definite position in the 
column ; generally it is behind the ammunition column. 
The ambulance waggons, with their big white tented 
covers and conspicuous red crosses, are often the most 
prominent features on the road. The enemy flying- 
man when he sees a Field Ambulance knows that there 
is at least a brigade consisting of four battalions and 
an ammunition column in front of it, and he can then 
direct his gunners to plant their shells in front of the 
ambulance and so get the ammunition column and the 
brigade. Hence the necessity for sometimes hiding 
the whereabouts of a Field Ambulance. 

After we had bivouacked, our section cook managed 



52 A SUKGEON IN KHAKI 

to light a fire in a hollow in a clump of trees, and soon 
brought us a much- desired mess of fried mutton, good 
bread and marmalade, and a can of tea. We rushed this 
as badly as the German prisoners did the bully beef 
earlier in the day. 

It was an odd meal, as we sat by the roadside viewing 
a desperate artillery duel, and between sips of tea snatch- 
ing up field-glasses to gaze at the bursting shells on 
the ridges held by the angry Germans. 



CHAPTBK VI. 
WHAT I SAW OF THE BATTLE OF THE MARNE. 

In a battle one really sees very little and knows very 
little of what is going on, except in the near neighbour- 
hood. The broad perspective, the great view of a 
battle, cannot be seen by one pair of eyes. This can 
only be understood and appreciated afterwards when 
facts and events are gathered together and dove-tailed 
to form the battle story. When I was sitting by the 
roadside on this August afternoon, amidst the crashing 
and shrieking of the guns, the bursting of the shells, 
the furious crackling of the rifles, and the snarling 
notes of the machine-guns, I guessed that a battle was 
in progress and that we were blazing furiously at an 
enemy who was blazing furiously back at us. Beyond 
that, I did not know very much. During the 
night I learned a good deal more of the day's 
events. But the whole story was not connected up 
till many days afterwards. I am quite sure that 
the people of London knew more about the battle of 
the Marne from the War bulletins than I did, although 
I was one of the humble units present in the actual 
fighting. 

On this sultry summer day our ambulance section 

53 



54 A SUKGEON IN KHAKI 

was resting by the side of the dusty road that stretched 
in our rear towards Paris and on our front towards a 
lovely green valley at the bottom of which meandered 
the river Marne. It wound its sinuous way from our 
far right to our near left. Directly before us, and on 
the distant side of the river, was a steep ridge, part of a 
low chain of uplands which rolled hazily away to the 
right and stopped abruptly in clear-cut lines in our 
front. The road beside which we sat, dipped into 
the valley and crossed the river on a fine stone bridge 
and continued through the undulating country beyond 
to the north. Small villages were scattered about — 
Mery to the right, Saccy at the bridgehead, and small 
clusters of houses and farms on the countryside over 
the river. Some squadrons of dismounted cavalrymen 
were standing by their horses in a meadow near the 
bank of the river. These horsemen had been busy 
earlier in the day, and had done some hard riding, 
cutting off stragglers from the retreating German 
Army Corps. Infantry were hidden from view in the 
depths of the valley. Batteries on our left were sending 
a plunging fire of shot and shell on to the ridge and 
dips beyond the river, and the road leading from 
the bridge. With a field-glass, moving dots, and 
what looked like waggons, could be made out on the 
road and the field alongside. It was on these moving 
dots that our guns played, and cloud-bursts of earth 
and dust showed that our gunners had the range 
beautifully. 

General French passed us twice in his Limousine car. 



THE BATTLE OF THE MARNE 55 

General Smith - Dorrien passed twice — General Sir 
Charles Ferguson passed — all in motor-cars travelling 
like mad. Gallopers with messages spurred up and 
down the road. Guns thundered into position, un- 
limbered and were quickly in action. Infantry march- 
ing rapidly passed down the road into the valley where 
a tornado of rifle-fire was going on. One could make 
out the distinct note from our own rifles and the muffled 
one from the more distant German Mausers. Two 
German shells burst short of the battery on our left and 
uncomfortably close to us. We were in an odd position 
for an ambulance — in front of our own battery, which 
was pelting shot into the Germans and which a German 
battery was trying to locate. When the enemy shells 
fell short they fell near us. Our position, however, was 
a dress circle box seat as a view-point, so we stopped 
where we were. It was not every day that one could 
look on at a real live battle. Before dusk came on, an 
aeroplane appeared over the ridge flying towards us, and 
was shot at by enemy aircraft guns. The shells burst 
all round it, but it sailed triumphantly through them 
all, and to our intense relief landed safely in our lines 
with some valuable information. 

I was much interested to see our Generals on this day 
dashing about in powerful automobiles. A General is 
always interesting at the front, be he a Brigadier-General, 
a General of Division, or an Army Corps General. 
One gets a fleeting glimpse of a " Brass Hat " in a motor- 
car and asks, ' ' Who is that ? " Some one with a keen 
eye or a nimble fancy will enlighten. " That's Haig, 



56 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

1st Corps," or " Smith - Dorrien, 2nd Corps/' or 
" Ferguson, 5th Division/' " Wonder what's up ? " is 
the next usual query, for a General moving around 
means that " something's up." 

Smith-Dorrien is a General well worth seeing. It 
was " S.-D." who handled the 2nd Army Corps 
from Mons during those terrible hard-fought days 
of the retreat, and he was now commanding the 3rd 
and 5th Divisions on this day on the Marne, when 
they forced the passage and deployed on the other 
side. 

When the action was at its hottest and every gun 
was busy, a car raced up from the valley in a swirling 
cloud of dust. The brakes were jammed hard down 
opposite us, the side door opened, and out stepped a 
well-knit, muscular, lithe figure, looking physically fit, 
smart, and cool in a well-made khaki uniform and red- 
banded cap. The face was a burnt-brick red, the 
moustache white, the eyes alert, wide open, and " know- 
ing." A savage, obstinate, determined chin dominated 
the face. It was the chin of a strong, stubborn nature, 
the chin of a prize fighter. This was Smith-Dorrien, 
the commander of the 2nd Army Corps, and at this 
moment the 2nd Corps were at grips with the enemy. 
With a few rapid strides he had reached the battery 
on our left, asked some question of the battery com- 
mander, and at once clapped field-glasses to his eyes and 
gazed long and intently at a spot on the other side of 
the valley pointed out to him by the battery commander. 
Our party of officers, filled with curiosity, also got out 



THE BATTLE OF THE MARNE 57 

field-glasses and focused in the same direction. Our 
shells could be seen bursting on a far ridge, and after a 
long stare we managed to make out what we thought 
were some guns, but we were not sure. A few 
more words to the battery commander, a careless 
salute, and Smith - Dorrien was back in his car, 
which was rapidly turned and disappeared " eyes 
out " down the dusty road up which it had but just 
come. 

As the car disappeared a tremendous rifle-fire broke 
out all along the valley beyond the stream. It made 
one's pulses beat with excitement. The 2nd Army 
Corps was fighting hard in the valley at our feet, 
and Smith-Dorrien was down in the valley with his 
men. 

When the devil's din was at its loudest, another 
powerful Limousine coming from the rear pulled up 
opposite us. " Go on, go on," shouted a voice from the 
inside, and the car again sped on. Inside was Field- 
Marshal Sir John French poring over a map held out 
with both hands over his knees. His car also dis- 
appeared into the valley, and we again surmised that 
there must be some big thing going on down below to 
draw thither Field-Marshals, Corps Commanders, and 
Divisional Generals. 

An hour elapsed. All of the batteries except one 
had ceased fire, the cracking of our rifles was still heavy 
but more distant, and now two cars were seen coming 
slowly towards us from out the valley. In the front 
car were French and Smith-Dorrien. We augured that 



58 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

all was well, for the car was proceeding slowly, and the 
Field-Marshal was placidly smoking a cigar. Our 
augury was correct. We had forced the passage of the 
Marne, and were grimly in pursuit of the retreating 
foe. 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE NIGHT OF THE MAKNE. 

When the long day closed and darkness shrouded us 
all, the firing ceased completely, and the world felt 
strangely silent. The batteries limbered up and took 
the road down towards the river, and our ambulances 
followed the same way. The only sound heard was 
the crunching of the waggon wheels on the road. All 
else was soundless and still, a great quiet reigned over 
the valley which a short time before had been so tor- 
mented by the earthquake thunderings of battle. 

We went down deeper and deeper into the valley, 
and in pitch darkness entered the quaint old village of 
Saccy on the Marne. Saccy is an old, world-forgotten 
village of narrow cobbled streets and ancient stone 
houses. Situated on the south side of the bridge which 
spans the Marne, the old village has ambled sleepily 
through the centuries disturbing no one by its existence, 
and undisturbed itself by the big events of history. 
During the preceding forty-eight hours the old place 
was suddenly engulfed in a cyclone of movement, for a 
German Army Corps had retreated rapidly through its 
streets and over its bridge, — too rapidly to stay and sack 
the houses in the manner so loved by the German 



60 A SUHGEON IN KHAKI 

soldiers. Their big guns had hurtled their iron messen- 
gers of death over the town from one side of the valley 
to the other, and sweating, panting British infantry, 
the finest warriors in the world, had pressed steadily 
along the same streets and over the bridge so lately 
trod by the enemy. Saccy had seen two armies pass 
through her, and had emerged safe and unhurt. When 
our ambulances entered Saccy the narrow streets were 
packed and congested with supply waggons, ammunition 
carts, guns, and marching infantry. The dull lights from 
shuttered windows or an open door and the occasional 
powerful glare from a big motor headlight lit up a scene 
of cursing drivers, struggling and straining horses, heavy 
lumbering waggons, and tired, thirsty, dusty marching 
men. 

The headquarters of the 5th Division was estab- 
lished in a cafe on the main street, and when we passed 
through the staff were at dinner in the large front room 
opening on to the street. We saw plates of steaming 
potatoes, a roast leg of mutton, bottles of pickles, and 
many bottles of red wine. The headquarters' cook 
was evidently a man of resource and knew his job. 

After passing through the village we turned abruptly 
to the right and then we were at the bridge, a splendidly 
built stone affair with a parapet and side walks. The 
bridge was fine and wide, but our crossing was a slow 
process, owing to the mass of waggons, buses, and 
equipment ahead. Some artillery and infantry had 
already bivouacked on the other side of the bridge, and 
their camp fires with dicksies of boiling stews and of 



THE NIGHT OF THE MARNE 61 

coffee looked very cheerful. Some of the men were 
sitting or standing round the fires, smoking their ever- 
popular Woodbine cigarettes; others were engaged 
lopping off branches from the forest trees for the fire ; 
many had taken off their puttees, boots, and socks, and 
were cooling their feet. They all looked very happy, 
and cheerfully exchanged compliments and remarks 
with the drivers of the waggons, who still had some 
miles to go before they could rest. Our ambulances 
were, however, about a quarter of a mile farther on, 
swung up a narrow cutting into a field, and here we 
found the headquarters of the 15th Field Ambulance, 
with seven ambulance waggons, supply carts, water 
carts, horses, tent and hospital equipment. When we 
joined up the unit was again complete. We had crossed 
the Marne behind the 15th Infantry Brigade, but our 
work was not yet done. 

It was now eleven o'clock of a pitch black night with 
threatening rain. Our ambulances were packed in a 
semi-circle in the field near an old farmhouse. A huge 
log fire was blazing about 200 yards away, and round this 
were sitting some of the medical officers of the ambul- 
ance and two chaplains. I made my bow to my new 
comrades and introduced myself as the latest medical 
recruit to the unit, and was given a box to sit on, and a 
cup of hot tea, bread and marmalade. All of these 
officers had been through Mons and Le Cateau, and were 
now veterans. One who had just come in from the 
front with some stretchers, said that our cavalry had 
done splendidly during the day, and had made a very 



62 A SUKGEON IN KHAKI 

fine charge, cutting off some companies of retreating 
infantry. Our Lancers had ridden through a squadron 
of Uhlans, turned round, and galloped through them 
again, spearing and slaying on their two bloody 
passages. 

We were in for a busy night, for all the stretcher 
parties from the various ambulances were out in the 
field collecting the wounded, whose arrival was expected 
now at any moment. An operating tent had been 
pitched in the field near by, and was brilliantly lit up 
with a huge acetylene lamp. The operating table 
was fixed in the centre of the tent and along each side 
were the instruments, basins, and dressings lying on the 
lids of the panniers, which made excellent side-tables. 
Very soon the ambulances lumbered up with the men 
picked up from the fields close at hand. The stretchers, 
each holding a wounded man, were taken out of the 
waggons and laid on a heap of straw near the door 
of the operating tent. Sixteen men were taken out and 
laid side by side. New stretchers were put in the 
waggons, which again set out to bring in more wounded. 
One surgeon stood on one side of the operating table, 
another stood opposite him, and a third surgeon was 
ready to assist or give an anaesthetic if necessary. 

Quietly and quickly one wounded man after 
another was lifted on to the table, his wounds were 
speedily dressed, and he was again carried out and laid 
on the straw with a blanket below and another above 
him. Those with painful wounds were given hypo- 
dermics of morphia. All who were fit to take nourishment 



THE NIGHT OF THE MARNE 63 

had hot soup, tea, bread and jam. Stimulants were 
given freely to those requiring it. The wounds were 
mostly from shrapnel, and only one case required an 
anaesthetic. He had a bad compound fracture of the 
thigh and was in terrible pain. We made some good 
splints and fixed up the limb comfortably and in good 
position. One poor devil had a bad abdominal wound 
for which we could do nothing. He was given a good 
dose of morphia and slept quietly and easily till five a.m., 
when he ceased to breathe. At one o'clock in the 
morning wounded were still coming in, and the surgeon 
on duty was relieved by myself. So with coat off, bare 
arms and covered with an operating apron, I did my 
spell of surgical duty during that night on the banks of 
the Marne. Our stretcher parties at last were finished, 
and had all come in with the report that all the wounded 
had been brought in. They reported that there were 
large numbers of British and German dead on the 
roadsides and in the fields. At six o'clock our large list 
of wounded were sent off to railhead at Coulommiers 
on returning-empty supply waggons and under the 
charge of a medical officer. The operating tent was 
struck and all the panniers and equipment were packed. 
The Field Ambulance had done its " job." It had 
followed its brigade into action, had collected all the 
wounded of that brigade, had dressed their wounds 
and made them comfortable during the night, and 
had then loaded all the wounded on waggons and sent 
them to railhead to join a hospital train. Having 
done this the ambulance was again ready to follow its 



64 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

brigade and do the same again. The long night was 
over and a new day was upon us. 

This was the only occasion on the march that our 
Field Ambulance had to pitch an operating tent in a 
field. Generally a house or chateau was made use of as a 
dressing station. The tent made an excellent first-aid 
dressing station, but of course was unsuited for any 
major surgical operation, and we tried to avoid as 
far as possible doing much in the way of surgery. 
We examined every wound carefully to see that no 
bleeding was taking place, and all the fractures were 
very carefully splintered with firm wooden splints. 
The men suffered very little pain comparatively, and 
were remarkably cheerful when they had been dressed 
and placed on the straw. They seemed anxious to 
talk and review the events of the day, and they told 
us great tales of the Germans running away. One man 
said that he, with his company, was in a belt of trees 
lying down and watching an open space in their front. 
Some Uhlans, not knowing the British were so close, 
cantered up and halted ; our men took careful aim and 
emptied twenty saddles with the first fusillade, and 
then fired on the panic-stricken, terrified horses who 
were careering off with the remaining Germans ; when 
the horses fell the riders surrendered at once. The man 
who told me the story was slightly wounded later in the 
day, and had a Uhlan helmet as a souvenir of the affray 
near the forest. 



CHAPTEE VIII. 

FROM THE MARNE TO THE AISNE. 

At 7 a.m. our Field Ambulance was ready to march. 
Breakfast was over, and we stood by awaiting orders. 
While waiting, some of us strolled back towards the 
bridge which we had crossed the previous night. It was 
now empty of men and vehicles. The ashes of the 
bivouac fires and the lopped branches of trees were all 
the tokens left of the passage of a German and a British 
Army Corps. The Marne is a deep stream with a slow 
current, and is a popular boating river. Two or three 
boating-club sheds lay pleasantly situated on the banks 
of the stream, bowered in foliage and trees. Up and 
down the river the scene was exceedingly beautiful. It 
was curious, when standing on the bridge, to think that 
in the previous forty-eight hours the tide of war had 
rolled over this lovely valley ; that artillery had plastered 
the landscape with shrapnel and high explosives, and 
that riflemen had lined the banks where to stand exposed 
for one minute meant instant death; that many hundreds 
of men had died and many hundreds had been wounded 
and crippled for life. The ambulance lorries climbing 
out of the valley to the rear with the loads of wounded 
men were the aftermath of the glitter and panoply 
5 



66 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

of war, and of the deadly struggle in the now peaceful 
valley. 

At eight o'clock we received our orders to follow 
on. So " Field Ambulance, fall in ! " and away we went 
on the great walk to the Aisne. At this time I did not 
have a horse. Every ambulance medical officer is 
provided with a horse ; but horses were scarce just 
then, and with three other doctors I " foot-slogged " the 
way. It was a beautiful morning. The night's rain 
had settled the dust on the roads, the sun was shining 
pleasantly, but drifting rain-clouds threatened a change. 

Major B and myself marched at the head of the 

column on foot. Behind marched the men of A Company 
— the stretcher-bearers and orderlies, followed by the 
six ambulance waggons of A Company. Then the men 
and the waggons of B Company, followed by the men and 
waggons of C Company. Water carts, kit waggons, 
supply and equipment carts, brought up the rear. Our 
personnel was about 250 men, and these with the 
waggons, carts, and horses made a fairly long column. 
Our road led in a snake-like way through the gradually 
rising uplands beyond the Marne on to the plain beyond. 
The countryside was typically French : clumps of forest 
were on our right, villages were dotted about every- 
where, and there were many isolated farmhouses 
surrounded by belts of trees and orchards. The country- 
side was agricultural. The wheat and oats had been 
cut and newly-made stacks were standing in the stubble 
fields, and some of the fields still held the " stooks " of 
grain. About nine o'clock we came on the grim evidences 



FROM THE MARNE TO THE AISNE 67 

of war. Our road led right through a country over 
which the Germans were retreating and we were pursuing. 
Two large motor-cars, broken down, were lying in a ditch 
beside the road. These were German staff cars. One 
had a badly burst tyre and that seemed to be all that 
was the matter with it. Farther on was a smashed 
French ambulance waggon, with a broken axle, and full 
of equipment and stores, abandoned by the Germans. 
This car had evidently been captured from the French 
during the German advance. Four German soldiers 
of the Mecklenburg Corps were lying together in a ditch. 
All had been killed by shrapnel wounds in chest and 
head. It seemed as if the four men had sat down 
exhausted in the ditch by the roadside and that one of 
our shrapnel shells had burst right over them, killing 
them all outright. We removed their identification 
discs in order that they could be sent to Germany later 
on. Close by was another dead German lying face 
downwards on the earth and with both hands extended 
above his head. Shrapnel had caught him full in the 
back of the neck. In a small clump of trees to the left 
of the road were two more dead Germans. One was 
lying on his back with his left hand over a wound in the 
chest. The other soldier had evidently been trying to 
assist him, for he had been kneeling on the right side 
of the wounded man when he too received a mortal hurt 
and fell dead across his dying comrade. His head was 
lying in a deep puddle of coagulated blood. The rifle 
of one lay some distance off, evidently violently thrown 
away by the first man when he received his chest 



68 A SUKGEON IN KHAKI 

wound. The rifle of the other soldier had been laid 
carefully against a tree within reach. The poor fellow 
did not reach out for it again. Two young Germans 
were found lying close together in a clump of vegetation. 
They had been sorely wounded and had crawled off the 
roadside into the friendly shelter of the trees. Left 
behind by their countrymen, grievously wounded 
and in dire distress, they had curled up together in the 
damp grass and died during the night. One had died 
from hemorrhage and one from a brain injury. 
Another group of four soldiers had crawled into a ditch 
and were lying close together in their last long sleep — 
killed by one of our heavy shells. 

A small footpath at one place ran from the side of 
the road towards the gate of an orchard of apple trees. 
Two German soldiers were lying here dead, and with 
their rifles alongside them. One had just reached 
the gate and the other was close on his heels when a 
burst of British shrapnel stopped their further progress. 
Stragglers from the retreating army, they were making 
for the orchard to hide when death came suddenly 
upon them. So the grim picture went on. The German 
dead dotted the roadside, the clumps of trees, and the 
fields on either side. Thirty Germans were found killed 
on a small ridge to our right. Another one was found 
alive, but dying. His wounds were carefully dressed 
and we carried him into a neighbouring cottage to die. 
Our artillery at the Marne did deadly execution and 
our shrapnel must have made of that roadside and the 
fields alongside a perfect hell. 



FROM THE MARNE TO THE AISNE 69 

Our gunners had got the range of the road and 
plastered it and the adjoining land with a murdering 
hail of lead and iron. It was curious to note how 
badly wounded men seemed to try to escape from the 
open and crawl into the shelter of a ditch or a clump of 
trees. 

A man wounded in the field would do as a 
wounded stag or rabbit would, — try for cover. 
Some men died after crawling away a few yards. 
Some got some distance away into the ditches and 
died there, a bloody trail marking their last painful 
journey. 

The expressions on the faces of the men were on the 
whole peaceful. Some had a look of wild surprise in 
their upward, staring eyes. Some looked as if a great 
fear and terror had possessed them at the last awful 
moment. The expression on the face of one finely 
built German officer, with a clean-cut intellectual face 
and firm jaw, was that of a sublime contempt. His 
eyes and nose and the curl on his lips betokened a 
contemptuous regard that was curious to see in a 
dead man. 

One burly young man killed by a shell wound in the 
abdomen had lived some time after having received 
his mortal hurt, for he had plucked some straw from 
the wheat stack near which he lay and made a pillow 
of it. On this he had rested his head. His military 
cloak lay over him, pulled tightly round his neck. 
There he lay with one hand under his head and resting 
on his pillow of crumpled straw, and the other hand 



70 A BURGEON IN KHAKI 

pressed on his wounded abdomen as if to give it some 
support. He looked like a man sleeping the peaceful 
sleep of utter fatigue, and when painlessly asleep his 
heart had ceased to beat. In his haversack there was 
a hard sausage and a piece of hard white bread. His 
water-bottle was empty and the cork had not been re- 
placed, nor had the bottle been hooked on to his belt. 
Wounded, bleeding, thirsty, and exhausted, he had 
slowly crept off that awful field into the friendly shelter 
of the haystack. 

The dead Germans were young sturdy men, strong- 
jawed and wiry. This was no canaille whom we were 
fighting, but a trained, determined soldiery who would 
fight hard and die gamely. 

Our route for the remainder of this day lay through 
such scenes of blood and devastation. We passed 
abandoned ammunition trains, field guns, saddlery, 
field kitchens, and war equipment of all sorts. There 
could be no doubt about the precipitate retreat of the 
Germans, nor of the tenacious and pressing character 
of the pursuit. Large numbers of dead horses littered 
the roadsides and fields. Some had been wounded 
or killed by our fire. Some lay with outstretched 
necks and open mouths, dead from exhaustion, and 
some had evidently been shot as temporarily useless 
by the Germans themselves who did not wish them 
to remain alive for the enemy. One sorely wounded 
horse as we. passed tried painfully to get up. We 
gave him the merciful dispatch with a revolver 
shot. 



FROM THE MARNE TO THE AISNE 71 

Rain fell heavily during the afternoon for about 
an hour and then the sky cleared again. Continuous 
heavy fighting was going on all day on our front and 
flanks, and muffled waves of artillery bursts could be 
heard bom the far distance. The whole French and 
British Army was advancing in one wide semicircle, 
endeavouring to " roll up " two German Army 
Corps. 

After a hard, gruelling march of twenty-two miles 
we reachec Chiezy. It was then pitch dark and we 
were all exlausted, for we had been on our feet for over 
twenty hours, part of the time marching, and part 
of the time standing by waiting to go forward. When a 
column is rmrching along a road, pursuing an enemy 
who is every low and again making a temporary stand 
to get a brig&de or a battalion out of a tight corner, 
the going is necessarily slow and there are many waits 
— sometimes for ten minutes, sometimes for an hour or 
more. The waits on the roadside are really more tiring 
than the steady marching. When one is " soft " and 
not accustomed to long walking, a day's march like this 
proves a torture. If such a " tenderfoot " sat down 
by the wayside for a few minutes, it was almost im- 
possible to get tie cramped body into the erect attitude 
again. Towards the end of the long, long day, and in 
the darkness of \he night, with feet swollen and sore, 
brain and body numbed with fatigue, one did not 
march, but only sumbled and lurched along the never- 
ending road like a Irunken man. A tired brain induces 
muscular fatigue, aid physical exhaustion causes mental 



72 A SUEGEON IN KHAKI 

torpor. When our ambulances pulled into the stubble 
field at Chiezy, we had lost all interest in the war, and 
in everything else on this earth except a cup oi tea 
and a long sleep. 

However, certain duties had to be attended to 
before one turned in. The horses were looked after, 
the ambulances parked, and rations served out to the 
men. We had about twenty patients, all of them 
British soldiers with sore feet — men who had fallen 
out of the regiments on the march and lad waited 
by the roadside for the ambulance waggons. We 
always ordered these poor devils to junp into the 
waggons and take off their boots and socks This gave 
instant relief. The sores on the heels an! across the 
instep were painted with iodine. In a few days 
the men were generally well and fit tc rejoin their 
regiments. 

On bivouacking this night we got al these " foot 
birds " to wash their feet. This was a mvel experience 
to men who had marched from M)ns without a 
wash or change of socks. The officers' cooks soon 
had coffee and stew ready, and oui servants had 
spread straw on the ground, on whch our valises 
were unrolled. The night was bexutiful ; about 
two miles away the guns were bo)ming and the 
bright flashes of the bursting shels reminded us 
that war was close beside us. Wit lout even taking 
off our boots we lay down on our valises and 
were asleep as soon as our bodes assumed the 
horizontal. 



EEOM THE MARNE TO THE AISNE 73 

At four o'clock next morning we were roused by the 

penetrating voice of the O.C., Major X . " Turn 

out, turn out ! " There was no escaping that voice or 
the caustic remarks that would be sure to come if one 
did not "turn out." We all got buckets of water, and 
stripping in the open had a good morning bath in 
the buckets. It was cold, but bracing. Breakfast of 
coffee, bread, jam, and fried bacon. Day broke shortly 
afterwards and we found that we had camped on the 
scene of a struggle of the previous afternoon. Close by 
were a number of dead horses with their saddlery still 
on. Some newly-made graves were distinguished about 
500 yards from our sleeping quarters. A German 
cavalry patrol had been bivouacked near a wood hard 
by our camping-place, and had evidently been very 
badly handled, judging by the signs of confusion, the 
litter left behind, the dead horses, the recent graves. 
In a small hollow I picked up a very fine German 
saddle and bit, and a good waterproof sheet. A bundle 
of letters was lying near in a small leather satchel, and 
on the cover of the satchel was stitched the photograph 
of a very pretty woman's face. Our O.C. had been 
educated in Germany, and being a good German 
scholar read the letters. They were of no military 
importance, and had been sent by the lady of the 
photograph to the owner of the satchel — evidently 
an officer. There were congratulations about his 
" promotion," and an earnest, loving message for his 
safe return. 

Poor devil ! We surmise that he must have been a 



74 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

young cavalry officer in command of the patrol. His 
" promotion " was short-lived, for he lay under one of 
the new mounds of clay, and the poor lady with the 
charming face would have some very sad hours 
when she learned from the German^ casualty lists that 

" Ober Lieutenant X was missing." One of our 

men picked up here a very fine pair of new German 
boots. As his own were a little the worse for wear 
he put on the German ones, and said that they were 
much more comfortable than the British military boot. 
I believe that his observation was quite correct. 
Amongst other souvenirs picked up at this interesting 
corner were a pair of field-glasses, a revolver, a good 
set of razors and mirrors, an ivory-backed hair-brush — 
all made in Germany. 

Our greatest find was yet to come. As our ambul- 
ance was getting under way one of our R.A.M.C. 
corporals hove in sight marching proudly at the head 
of eleven fully-armed German prisoners. The corporal's 
tale was full of interest. He was searching in the wood 
for more " souvenirs " when he came suddenly upon 
the eleven soldiers lying together in a small clearing. 
The corporal thought that his last hour had come. 
All the tales of German atrocities he had heard unfolded 
rapidly in his mind, and when the German non-com- 
missioned officer got up and approached him, speaking 
German, which our corporal did not understand, he 
thought that his death-sentence was being pronounced. 
By signs, to the utter amazement of the corporal, he 
grasped the fact that the Germans wished to surrender. 



FROM THE MARNE TO THE AISNE 75 

He beckoned the enemy to follow him, and the eleven 
hungry, tired, and very dirty-looking Mecklenburghers 
came docilely into camp. Our O.C. approached them j 
took their rifles, and ordered them coffee, bully beef, and 
biscuits. The prisoners set to without delay, and ate 
as only hungry Germans can eat. Three of them had 
badly blistered feet, and when we marched off these 
were accommodated in the ambulance waggons. The 
remainder marched behind the waggons of A 
Company, under charge of the corporal who " cap- 
tured" them. Later in the day we handed them 
over to the Norfolk Regiment, as it was clearly 
against the etiquette of war for a Field Ambulance 
to have prisoners of war. We hadn't a gun amongst 
us. 

The capture of eleven prisoners of war by our Field 
Ambulance was the occasion for much joy to our men, 
and the corporal was a very proud man. I don't know 
what the Germans thought when they discovered that 
they had surrendered to an unarmed party. The 15th 
Field Ambulance is so far the only ambulance which 
has taken prisoners of war, and I hope that the 
R.A.M.C. messes at Aldershot and Netley will duly 
treasure the fact in the archives. 

Rain fell heavily when we left Chiezy, and we were 
soon soaked to the skin. The roads were quagmires 
of greasy and sticky mud, heavy lowering clouds made 
everything sombre and grey, and the countryside 
looked mournful and cheerless. Mile after mile we 
trudged in the pitiless rain. I shall always remember 



76 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

the march from the Marne to the Aisne, for its wet and 
mud. Shortly after leaving Chiezy we came upon 
some gruesome evidences of German savagery. Near 
a stable built on to a farmhouse we saw a Frenchman 
lying dead across a manure heap. The top of his head 
had been blown off, and his brains were plastered over 
his face. The man, evidently the proprietor, had 
been shot the previous day by a German officer. There 
was an old woman at the farm, and she told us this, and 
that she had seen him fall. What was the reason for 
the brutal murder she did not know. She said that 
the officer and the farmer seemed to be in conversation 
near the stable, and the farmer appeared to be pro- 
testing at something. Suddenly the officer placed the 
muzzle of his revolver close to the farmer's forehead 
and shot him. The wound had been inflicted at close 
range, and we were filled with disgust at such a callous 
murder. About a mile farther on, we met another 
poor devil who had been done to death. A middle- 
aged man with a bald head, bare-footed, and dressed 
in an old pair of blue pants and a cotton shirt, was 
lying near a plough close to the road. His head had 
been battered in, probably with the butt-end of a rifle, 
and he had been dead for about twenty-four hours. 
Why the poor wretched man had been killed we did 
not know. The third instance of this fiendish villainy 
I saw later on in the day at Billy. This time it was 
a young man, a mere youth, and he lay face downwards 
at the door of a cowhouse, dead from a bullet wound 
in the chest. I examined the wound with some care, 



FROM THE MARNE TO THE AISNE 77 

and would be quite prepared to swear in any court of 
law that the man who shot him had pressed the revolver 
against the dead man's chest when he pulled the trigger. 
This is the German way. These examples of nauseous 
and disgusting fright fulness amazed me. I had never 
before come up against such tragedies, and I felt an 
unholy pleasure that our big guns farther along the 
road were pouring shrapnel and shell amongst the living 
devils who did such things. 

At Billy our Brigadier-General, Count Gleichen, 

ordered us to bivouac for the night. Major B and 

I billeted in a small cottage abutting on a very smelly 
cowshed. At the cottage fire we dried our soaking 
uniforms, and dug dry underclothing out of our valises, 
which we spread on the kitchen floor and lay upon. 
Madame of the cottage was full of the latest war news. 
She was tres intelligente and very satisfied with the 
progress of the war. She told us that our advanced 
guard had entered the village only six hours behind 
the retreating Germans ; that the Germans were in a 
great hurry and were too tired almost to march ; that 
their officers were angry and cursed and struck the 
men who lagged behind. She also assured us that 
some Uhlans had ridden through, and that they 
were very drunk and had bottles of champagne 
suspended in festoons round their necks. While mak- 
ing some tea, and boiling eggs, she cheered us up 
with the assurance that the war would soon be over, 
for Monsieur le Cure had told her so himself, bless his 
heart. 



78 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

The Cure opened his church and allowed our men 
to carry in straw and sleep there for the night. This 
was a godsend to our men during that night of pouring 
rain, and the Cure got many a rough blessing for his 
kind act. The villagers at Billy were much heartened 
at seeing the British so close on the German heels, 
and one old fellow — he must have been a centenarian — 
got very drunk on the strength of it all, and assured 
us that he was a veteran of the soixante-dix and had 
killed many Germans at that time. He was too drunk 
to remember the exact number. 

During the night I was awakened by a tremendous 
artillery fire. The batteries beyond the village had 
got the range of something and were giving them 
hot potatoes. Madame of the cottage was very 
alarmed, and thought that the Germans were 
coming back. Her confidence in the British was 
not as firm as she had led us to believe the previous 
evening. 

We were all out and ready to march at five o'clock 
next morning, but did not move off till seven o'clock. 
Rain still continued to pour down and we were all 
miserably muddy and damp. Whenever a big artillery 
duel took place heavy rain was sure to follow. This 
was so on the Marne and on the Aisne, and some one 
with a meteorological bent had made the same observa- 
tions during the Peninsular War. All day long we 
marched or waited on the muddy, sopping pave with 
waterproof sheets tucked round our necks and 
shoulders, off which the water streamed. The advance 



FROM THE MARNE TO THE AI8NE 79 

now was very slow, and we were told that our men 
ahead were meeting with a more organised and steady- 
resistance. We no longer met evidences of a pre- 
cipitate retreat. There were no more German dead or 
abandoned material by the roadsides. 

At 9 p.m in the dark we entered the doleful village 
of Chacrise. For sixteen hours we had been on our 
feet and had only covered about eight or nine miles. 
The soft roads, ground down by our heavy waggons 
and guns, were in a bad state, and we walked through 
ankle-deep mud and slush. When we entered Chacrise 
we were told that all the billets had been taken up. 
The church, the Mairie, the shops, and houses were all 
occupied by our soldiers. It looked as if we should 
have to sit all night on the cobble-stones of the street, 
and what with the darkness, the incessant pouring rain, 
and the fatigue, we were all very sorry that we had come 
to France to fight Germans. But every cloud has its 
silver lining. We found an unoccupied house down 
a dark alley. The windows were firmly shuttered and 
the door securely locked. The occupants had locked 
up their house and bolted when the Germans were 
known to be about. By a little skilful burglary with a 
jemmy we opened a window. One of us got in and 
opened the front door from the inside : very soon our 
cook had a fire lighted and a hot supper ready. We 
got all our men and horses under good cover, and our 
night at Chacrise, which promised so badly, turned out 
very happily. We were all given an issue of rum this 
night. Rum is an oily, nauseous drink, but given 



80 A SUKGEON IN KHAKi 

certain surroundings and a certain physical state it 
has a most excellent flavour. On the night at 
Chacrise everything conspired to make the rum very 
palatable. 

At 4 a.m. next day our never-sleepy O.C. disturbed 
our dreams with his " Turn out, turn out ! " and out 
we turned. We had no choice when he was stalking 
round. Again we stepped out on muddy roads, and 
under a heavy downpour of soaking rain, and marching 
and stopping, reached the village of Serches on the 
Aisne at eleven o'clock in the morning. The rain 
then ceased and a glorious, welcome sun appeared. 
The whole countryside was bathed in a delightful 
warmth, and we felt glad to be alive. 

We were ordered to bivouac our ambulances in a 
field behind the village, and were told that the German 
rearguard was holding up our advance most deter- 
minedly along the Aisne banks, and that the enemy 
artillery was in great strength. 

Our march from the Marne to the Aisne was accom- 
plished, and we now entered upon a new and different 
phase of the great war game. Our Brigade was in 
action on the Aisne banks, and we had to take up a 
position behind it and be prepared to receive its 
wounded and sick. 

The Field Ambulance with a marching army takes its 
number from the Brigade which it serves. The 15th 
Field Ambulance followed the 15th Brigade ; the 
13th Field Ambulance, the 13th Brigade, and so on. 
Four regiments or battalions form a Brigade, and all 



FROM THE MARNE TO THE AXSNE 81 

the other units attached to the Brigade, such as 
cavalry or ammunition columns, are also medically 
attended by the Field Ambulance attached to their 
Brigade. 

Our Brigade consisted of the Norfolks, Cheshires, 
Bedfords, and Dorsets, and the Brigadier was 
Major- General Count Gleichen, now a General o£ 
Division. 

It was from these regiments that we received 
most of our casualties on the Marne, on the Aisne, 
and later at La Bassee, and, as the following few 
notes will show, we were serving with regiments who 
had proved themselves doughty warriors in the 
past. 

The Norfolk Regiment was created in 1685 in the 
time of the Stuarts to help suppress the rebellion of 
Monmouth. Their badge is the figure of Britannia, 
well won, in 1707, for their gallant bearing at Almanza. 
This great regiment has done sterling service in many 
lands, and has as battle honours, Roleia, Corunna, 
Peninsula, Sevastopol, Afghanistan, and South Africa. 
Their nicknames are three, " The Holy Boys," 
" The Fighting Ninth " (they were formerly called 
the 9th Regiment of Foot), and the " Norfolk 
Howards." 

The Bedfordshire Regiment, with its badge of the 
united red and white rose, and its battle honours with 
the proud names, Blenheim, Ramillies, Chitral, was a 
magnificent unit in France when we joined it. The 
regiment had been raised in the last years of James n. 



82 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

in 1688, and from 1809 to 1881 was known as the 
16th Regiment of Foot. The nicknames of the regi- 
ment are " The Peacemakers," " The Featherbeds," 
" The Bloodless Lambs." This regiment lost heavily 
at Missy on the Aisne, and at Ypres later on in the war 
it had over 650 casualties. 

The Cheshires, with a united red and white rose 
for a badge like the Bedf ords, were raised in 1689, and 
were in old days the 22nd Regiment of Foot. Their 
war record includes Martinique, Hyderabad, Scinde, 
and South Africa, and their nicknames are " The Two 
Twos," "The Red Knights," and "The Lightning 
Conductors " — when marching in Ireland about fifteen 
years ago the regiment was struck by lightning. The 
Cheshires have suffered terribly during this war, and 
at Missy we had a number of their casualties to treat, 
and many were buried near the old village on the 
Aisne. 

The Dorsetshire Regiment has a proud motto, 
" Primus in Indis," commemorating its great services 
in India; and the fact that it stands first in order of 
precedence amongst British regiments that have seen 
war there. The drum-major of this regiment still 
carries the staff of the Nawab's herald on parade. 
It was captured at Plassey, where the regiment was in 
action under Clive. 

Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien, Commander of the 5th 
Division, " particularly mentioned the fine fighting of 
the Dorsets. They suffered no less than 400 casualties. 
Their Commanding Officer, Major Roper, was killed, 



FROM THE MARNE TO THE AISNE 83 

but all day they maintained their hold on Pont Fixe." 
Their battle story is a great one, and includes Plassey, 
Albuera, Vittoria, Sevastopol, and Relief of Ladysmith. 
The 1st Battalion was raised in 1702. The "Green 
Linnets " is their nickname. 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE AISNE AND THE TRAGEDY OF THE SUNKEN ROAD. 

On arriving at Serches on the Aisne our ambulance 
pulled off into a sloping grassy field, and the tired 
horses were taken out, fed, and rubbed down. Fires 
were lit and we all prepared to enjoy ourselves by 
resting in the glorious sun's rays, washing, shaving, 
and smoking a pipe in comfort. For the past few 
days we could not smoke in the open owing to the 
rain. 

A tremendous artillery engagement was going on at 
the front. Our batteries were posted behind a long 
ridge not far from where we were, and every gun was in 
action, making the air resound with the bursting charges. 
It was not by any means a one-sided affair, as we were 
soon to know. The enemy were firing from a ridge on 
the other side of the river, and they had got our positions 
very accurately. At one o'clock a Taube flew over our 
position and dropped three bombs. Two fell near us 
with a terrible clatter, one on the road to our left down 
which we had come, and one about 400 yards behind us 
in a belt of trees. The third one actually fell in our 
field, and plunged itself angrily into the soft turf. Our 
position was obviously not a safe one for a Field Ambul- 

84 



THE TRAGEDY OF THE SUNKEN ROAD 85 

ance, and we got orders to retire two miles farther back. 
We did not move off, however, till 5 p.m. 

Major B and I walked through the village of 

Serches and turned up the road leading to the right 
behind a steep ridge which flattened out into a plain of 
about one to two miles' width. This plateau fell abruptly 
on its northern side right on to the Aisne River. When 
climbing up this road, which led to the summit of the 
ridge, we passed numerous stretcher-bearers bringing in 
wounded to the 13th Field Ambulance, which was also 
quartered in the village. The men with slight hand 
or head wounds were walking, and the serious cases 
were on stretchers. The Germans had got the range 
of the ridge summit towards which our road led, 
and were freely plastering it with shrapnel and Black 
Marias. 

On approaching the top of the rise we saw two of our 
batteries on our right, and three on our left well forward 
in the plateau, and busily engaged. Our guns at this 
date were not concealed from inquisitive Taubes by 
trees and foliage — that lesson had not yet been learned 
by the conservative Briton. German shells were 
bursting on the ridge in good line for our guns, but about 
a quarter of a mile short. Our road now took a direct 
turn for the far side of the plateau, and here it went 
through a deep cutting down to a bridge which spanned 
the river. On the left-hand side of the road at the 
cutting there was a large gravel pit or cave where road- 
metal was obtained. The road across the plateau was 
open and exposed, but from the cutting to the banks of 



86 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

the river it was lined with pine trees. Major B and 

myself were standing on the road at the top of the ridge 
trying to make out the German positions with our field- 
glasses. A gunner officer, seeing the red-cross brassards 
on our arms, hurried up and said, " You are urgently 
wanted in the sunken road about a mile and a half down. 
Two doctors have just been killed and there are a lot of 
badly wounded on the road/' We had no dressings of 
any sort with us. We had come thus far out of curiosity, 
not expecting that it was such a " hot corner." We, 
however, went forward at the double along this exposed 
road, passing upturned waggons, dead and dying horses, 
khaki caps and overcoats, overturned and smashed 
water carts. Out of breath, we reached the cave and 
found how urgently necessary we were. The scene 
defied description. The cave was a shambles of 
mangled forms. Nineteen wounded men were lying in 
the loose sandy gravel, having just been brought in by 
their surviving uninjured comrades. One was on the 
point of death from a shrapnel wound of the brain — the 
bullet had passed through the orbit. There were 
fractured limbs, shrapnel wounds of the chest, abdomen, 
and head, shell wounds and concussions. We did 
all we possibly could with first-aid dressings. We got 
the uninjured men to take off their puttees, and these we 
used as bandages ; rifles were employed as splints for the 
lower limbs, and bayonets for the upper limbs. One 

poor officer, Captain and Quartermaster M , an old 

soldier with two rows of ribbons on his coat, had a badly 
shattered thigh and knee. He was suffering tortures, 



THE TRAGEDY OF THE SUNKEN ROAD 87 

and his anguished face showed the strong efforts he made 

to control himself. Lieut. W , R.A.M.C., a civil 

surgeon, had a smashed ankle-joint. We sent at once for 
ambulances and stretcher parties. These soon arrived, 
and the terribly wounded men were conveyed to the 
Field Hospital which had just been arranged at 
Sexches. 

Poor Captain M— — died that night, and was buried 
near a stone wall in the garden at the old farmhouse of 
Mont de Soissons, and the doctor had to have his leg 
amputated later. He was a very plucky man. Even 
when wounded and lying in helpless pain, he gave in- 
structions about the other wounded men. 

After the wounded were sent away I walked a few 
yards down the road to the place of the disaster. Here 
was a scene of ghastly horror. On the road lay mangled 
and bleeding horses, dead men lying in all sorts of 
convulsed attitudes, upturned waggons, smashed and 
splintered wood. Add to this the agonised groans of 
our wounded men, the shrill scream of dying horses, 
and that impalpable but nevertheless real feeling of 
standing in the face of the Creator — one can, perhaps, 
then feebly picture this scene of carnage, of the solemnity 
of death, and of the pitiless woe of this devastation. 
Where could one find here a trace of the glory, pomp, 
and magnificence of war ? 

The story of the incident is one not uncommon. 
A party of men of the West Kents were sitting by the 
roadside beyond the cutting, having a meal of bully 
beef and biscuits. As they were eating, a cavalry ambul- 



88 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

ance came up from the bridge over the Aisne. When 
the ambulance was abreast of the West Kents, a German 
battery landed a Black Maria on the ambulance, and at 
the same moment shrapnel burst right amongst them 
all. The heavy explosive and the shrapnel did terrible 
execution. Captain F , R.A.M.C, was killed out- 
right, the other doctor was badly hurt. Eight men of 
the West Kents met instantaneous death ; eight hoises 
were killed, and three horribly mangled and flung off the 
road by the violence of the explosion. On examining 
these dead men on the road it was noticeable that they 
had all received a multiplicity of wounds. One man, 
a burly sergeant-major, had a big hole in his head, an- 
other huge hole in his neck, a lacerated wound of the 
chest, and one boot and foot blown completely away. 
All had widely open staring eyes. The expression 
seemed to be one of overwhelming surprise and 
horror. 

Poor fellows ! Their moment of surprise and horror 
must indeed have been brief, for death is dealt out at 
these times with a lightning flash. 

In describing events in this war one unconsciously 
has to turn to superlatives. " Devilish, hellish, bloody, 
awful, and terrible " are words that come most trippingty 
to the tongue. This war is superlative in all its moods 
and tenses. Superlative in the number of men engaged, 
in the extent of the battle front, in the duration of the 
battles, in the misery it is causing and has caused, in 
the awful loss of life, in the mutilating wounds caused by 
the shrapnel, in the number of the missing, in th6 




Gun teams at the Marne. 




The way to the sunken road. 



THE TRAGEDY OF THE SUNKEN ROAD 89 

atrocities, inhumanities, and blasting cruelties of the 
enemy, and in their wanton destruction of all that is 
sacred and revered. 

"Few few shall part 
Where many meet.' 



CHAPTEK X. 

MISSY ON THE AISNE. 

We left Serches at 5 p.m. and retraced our road 
for about two miles till we reached the ancient Chateau- 
farm of Mont de Soissons. This historic farm was our 
headquarters during September and till the date we 
left in October 1914, and it was during this eventful 
period that all the great stirring events " on the Aisne " 
took place. " On the Aisne," how much of tragedy 
and pathos, of great deeds, of gallant deaths, stubborn 
fighting, and indomitable courage are associated with 
those words ? 

On the night after our arrival at Mont de Soissons, 
the ambulance officers were sitting about eleven o'clock 
round a table in the old dining-room of the Chateau, 
when an urgent order arrived from headquarters to 
send doctors, stretcher-bearers, and ambulance waggons 
with equipment to Missy. The orders were for the 
ambulances to get to Missy in the dark, pick up the 
wounded, and at all costs to come out again in the 
dark. To get to Missy, which was situated on the far 
side of the Aisne, we would have to cross the river, and, 
— reading between the lines of this definite order to get 
in under cover of darkness and get out again in the 

90 



MISSY ON THE AISNE 91 

dark, — one could see that our night ride was to be a 
somewhat perilous one. 

Section C, the section to which I was attached, 
was ordered to undertake the task, and at twelve o'clock, 
on a pitch-dark rainy night, our section was ready to 
move off". We had five waggons, with the complete 

personnel of one section. Major B was in command, 

with Lieutenant I and myself as the other medical 

officers, and with us Monsignor, the Catholic chaplain 
attached to our field ambulance, also came as a 
volunteer. Monsignor was the salt of the earth, and 
whenever he thought that he could be of service to our 
wounded men he was there. There was no demand 
on him on this wild rainy night to leave the comfortable 
shelter of the farmhouse and voyage out towards the 
enemy lines ; but he had a strong sense of duty, and 
behind the priest there was more than a soupgon of 
the knight-errant, who warmed at the thought of a 
dangerous adventure. 

We were not permitted to light our waggon lamps, 
and in the darkness we rumbled off, anxious not to lose 
any time over our mission, and if possible complete it 
under cover of darkness. 

Misfortune dogged us from the start. We had but 
one map ; and as nobody could give us any directions, 
that was our only guide. We mapped out the route, 
Mont de Soissons to Serches — Serches to Venizel on the 
banks of the Aisne, where was the bridge by which 
we were to cross the river — Venizel to Bucy le Long, and 
thence to Missy. Altogether, we reckoned that we had 



92 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

7 or 8 miles at least to go ; but it proved to be a 
"long, long way to Tipperary." 

After being five minutes on the march we dis- 
covered that we were on the wrong road, and it took 
twenty minutes to turn the waggons on the narrow, 
muddy pave and get on again. Passing through 
Serches, we turned to the left and followed the road 
through a valley leading to the banks of the Aisne. 
Here again we were nearly off on a wrong road, and 
lost about another twenty minutes righting ourselves. 
The country was intersected with roads not indicated 
on our map. We now got on to a narrow road dipping 
sharply down towards a clump of trees, and here one 
of our waggons slipped over the embankment, and one 
of the horses was killed. We could not get the waggon 
up again, so abandoned it and pushed on with our 
remaining four waggons, water cart, and supply waggon. 
The loss of this waggon was a serious blow to us, as 
events will show. 

As we entered the forest we were challenged by a 
sentry of the Cameron regiment, who passed us on. 
A Cameron officer met us here and told us that we were 
going into a bad place, as late that afternoon he had 
lost some men from shrapnel at the very spot where 
we then were. Progress was very slow for the next 
500 yards, as the road was barricaded with felled trees, 
and trenches had been dug alongside. After negotiating 
this nasty corner we got on quickly to Venizel. 

We reached Venizel right on the banks of the Aisne, 
and learned to our chagrin that the fine stone bridge 



MISSY ON THE AISNE 93 

had been destroyed by the German artillery that day. 
The engineers with superhuman energy had just about 
completed a pontoon bridge. We were kept waiting 
here for an hour. Then, one waggon at a time, we got 
across. The bridge was very doubtfully lit at either 
end by darkened lanterns, and one seemed to be very 
close to the swift current of the Aisne, already in flood. 
At the far side of the bridge our progress was again 
very slow for some time, as we had to meander gingerly 
between the trenches dug for the men who were holding 
the bridge-end. As we left the pontoon an optimistic 
engineer lieutenant, in clothes dripping with water, 
cheerfully called out " Good luck. Hope you get 
back all right." In reply we warned him that he 
would get pneumonia if he didn't change his clothes, 
and that it was foolish to take baths in the Aisne with 
a uniform on. 

Our road lay now along a flat plain, curving to the 
right. The night was very dark and ominously silent. 
Our men were forbidden to talk or smoke cigarettes, as 
we were approaching the enemy lines. Reaching Bucy 
le Long, we inquired the way from a Scottish officer 
who was standing near a stone well on the village street. 
All his men were alert and under arms and expecting 
an attack at any moment. The officer, speaking with 
the good Doric accent, indicated our way and told us 
to hurry on and get under cover, as Missy was very 
" nasty " just then and they expected a German attack. 

We realised by this time that we might get into 
Missy in the dark, but by no possibility could we bring- 



94 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

the wounded out in the dark ; and by the serious prepara- 
tions for repelling an attack in the village street we 
knew that we could not get out in daylight. It looked 
as if we were soon to be in the thick of that most 
sanguinary of all forms of war — street fighting. 

So on we went, and after taking another wrong 
turn and losing another half -hour we got on to a straight 
road leading direct to Missy. It was extraordinarily 
difficult to find one's way, as the night was dark and 
everything was strange and unfamiliar. There seemed 
to be hundreds of roads, and the greatest care had to 
be exercised ; for a wrong turning would land us very 
speedily in the German lines, and none of us wished 
our expedition to end in an inglorious pilgrimage to 
Germany. 

As the first doubtful streaks of dawn appeared we 
reached Missy. 

The main street of the village was full of men of 
the Norfolks and Cheshires, all up and armed, and 
awaiting the Germans. There had been a very hot 
skirmish outside the village on the previous afternoon, 
and the Norfolks and Cheshires had lost heavily. It 
was the wounded from this melee that we were to get 
to. A cheery Norfolk sergeant directed us down a 
small lane to the right of the street, telling us that there 
were a lot of badly hit men somewhere at the bottom 
of the lane. The lane was too narrow to admit of our 
ambulances, so they were parked in front of a baker's 
shop and the horses were taken out. We hurried down 
the lane and found the wounded men. 



MISSY ON THE AISNE 95 

Dawn was breaking and shafts of grey light and 
shadow were thrusting through the darkness. Then, 
like a clap of thunder, the German batteries opened 
up, and from that moment till nightfall we lived 
through one of the most hellish artillery duels that any 
mortal man could imagine. A tornado of shot and shell 
swept across that beautiful Aisne valley. It seemed 
as if all the fiends of hell were let loose. The noise was 
deafening, ear-splitting, the bursting of the shells, the 
mighty upheavals of earth where the shells struck, the 
falling trees, falling masonry, crashing church steeples, 
the rolling and bounding of stones from walls struck 
by these titanic masses of iron travelling at lightning 
speed, the concussion of the air, the screeching, whisking, 
and sighing of the projectiles in their flight, made an 
awful scene of destruction and force. Add to all this the 
snarling, typewriter note of the Maxims, the angry phut 
of the Mauser bullet as it struck a house or a gate, and the 
crackling roars from our Lee-Metf ords — truly it was the 
devil's orchestra, and the devil himself was whirling the 
fiery baton. The steeple of the village church was 
struck fairly by a German shell, and with a mighty 
crash the stones were hurled madly on to the road 
down which we had but just passed, and killed one of 
our horses. Another shell plunged right into the old 
church and sent its roof in a clattering hail over the 
surrounding houses. A stone house at the top of our 
alley-way got another shell and was levelled to the 
ground, killing two women who were inside. The 
corner of the building in which we were located was 



96 A SUBGEON IN KHAKI 

struck by a passing shell and a huge hole was ripped 
out of the solid masonry. Shrapnel burst over the 
house, in the garden in front, on the doors of the house, 
on the roof, and down the alley. Our red cross flag 
and Union Jack were badly holed with shrapnel. At 
the kitchen door a large piece of shell fell, sending mud 
and gravel against the windows and into the room. A 
railway line ran past the foot of our garden, and stretch- 
ing from this railway line to the banks of the Aisne in the 
distance was a wide grassy meadow on which some 
cows were grazing. A thicket of tall trees, surrounding 
a small farmhouse, was situated to the right of the 
meadow. This house was the headquarters of Count 
Gleichen, the commander of the 15th Brigade. The 
Germans evidently were aware of this fact, for the 
first shots they fired at break of day were at this house. 
We could plainly see one shot fall short of the house, 
but in a straight line for it. The second shot we thought 
had really got the house, but fortunately this was not so. 
It landed near the door, as we learned later. After this 
shot the headquarters galloped off: as hard as they 
could go, and the enemy tried to reach them with 
shrapnel, but without success. Alongside the railway 
line there was a line of trenches, and every inch of that 
line seemed to have been covered during the day by the 
German fire. Their artillery practice was perfect, 
and at this period of the war the enemy artillery mightily 
outclassed ours. Our guns from the ridge on the other 
side of the Aisne made but a feeble reply to the terrific 
German bombardment. 



MISSY ON THE AISNE 97 

Now for the story of our wounded at Missy. When we 

got down our alley at dawn on this eventful morning we 

found eighty-four grievously wounded men. In a little 

stone f owlhouse to the left of the alley, fourteen men were 

lying packed close together. There was no place to put 

one's foot in trying to walk over them. To the right of 

the alley a gate opened into a gravel yard of a fine 

two-storied stone house, a very old and solidly built 

building. The house formed three sides of a square ; a 

beautiful flower garden with a rose pergola formed the 

fourth side. The gravel yard was in the centre. The 

lower story of this building, with the exception of the 

kitchen and an adjoining room, consisted of stables, 

granaries, saddlery rooms, and coachhouse. Lying on 

the floors of the stable, kitchen, etc., were wounded 

men. They had all been wounded the previous evening 

in an attack on the enemy concealed in a wood. The 

wounded in the small fowlhouse were carried, under 

shrapnel fire, across the alley to the big house and placed 

in the room adjoining the kitchen and in the saddlery 

room. The cooks made up a big fire and soon had hot 

water boiling. The three medical officers were soon 

rapidly at work. The first case attended to was that 

of a young soldier of the Norf oiks who had been struck 

by a shell in the abdomen. His intestines were lying 

outside the body, and loops were inside the upper part 

of his trousers. Under chloroform we did what we 

could. He died painlessly four hours afterwards. 

There were many bad shell wounds of the head ; one 

necessitating a trephining operation. One poor fellow 

7 



08 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

had his tongue half blown off. The loose bit was 
stitched on. The compound fractures were numerous 
and of a very bad type, associated with much shattering 
of the bone. Four men died during the day, but our 
arrival and timely help undoubtedly saved many men. 
We made the poor fellows as comfortable as we could, 
and we were incessantly busy from the moment we 
entered this blood-stained place. I personally shall 
never forget the sight of these poor, maimed, bleeding, 
dying and dead men crowded together in those out- 
houses, with not a soul near them to help, and I am more 
than thankful that I was privileged to be of service and 
to employ my professional skill to help them in their 
dire hour of need. We knew that we were in a tight 
corner. We expected that at any moment we would 
be all blown to pieces ; we did not know how we were 
to get these men back to our own lines ; but we knew 
also that whatever happened we would stand by our 
helpless countrymen to the last, and if we failed to get 
them safely back it would not be our fault. I men- 
tioned previously that when our ambulance got orders 
to go to Missy, Monsignor, the Roman Catholic chaplain, 
volunteered to come with us. It is difficult to attempt 
to write of our brave Monsignor. He was the bravest 
of the brave. When the three medical officers were 
working hard with the wounded — dressing, operating, 
anaesthetising — Monsignor was very busy too. He made 
hot soups, hot coffee, prepared stimulating drinks, set 
orderlies to work to see that every man who could take 
nourishment got it . One man in j ured in the mouth could 



MISSY ON THE AISNE 99 

swallow only with the greatest difficulty. Monsignor 
patiently sat by this man, and one way or another with 
a spoon managed to give him a pint of hot Oxo soup 
and a good stiff nip of brandy. This splendid prelate 
carried straw with his own hands and made pillows 
and beds for our men. He took off boots and cut off 
bloody coats and trousers in order to help the work 
of the surgeons. He rummaged in a cellar in the house 
and discovered a box of apples. These he cut into 
slices for our men. He stood by our dying men and 
spoke words of cheer and comfort to the poor helpless 
fellows. He was absolutely reckless about himself. 
Exposed to shrapnel and shell fire many times during 
the day, he was too busy attending to the wounded to 
think about anything else. Towards dusk, when our 
work eased off, we collected some pieces of shell which 
fell near him — as souvenirs. I looked at Monsignor 
many times during the day, and was struck with his 
expression of content and his happy smile. He was 
exalted and proud and happy to be where a good priest, 
— and what a good priest he was ! — could be of such 
great service. I am not a Catholic, but I honour the 
Church that can produce such a man as Monsignor, and 
I very greatly honour Monsignor. 

As darkness came on the hellish artillery fire 
quietened down and then ceased altogether. The rifle- 
firing continued intermittently for a little while longer 
and then it too ceased. We were now " up against " 
the last and greatest trial of all — the evacuation of our 
wounded. During the day some more wounded men 



100 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

had crawled into us, and we had now 102 men to bring 
back to our lines. We managed in the darkness to get 
two large French country carts to act as ambulances. 
Our four ambulance waggons were, of course, not 
enough, and even with the help of the country carts 
we could not accommodate 102 wounded men. Every 
man wounded in the head or arms who could walk, 
was told off to march with our stretcher-bearers. We 
packed the wounded lying - down cases into the 
ambulance waggons and on to the country carts. 
Plenty of straw had previously been placed in these 
latter. We were compelled to load up our waggons 
and carts far too heavily, but our position was a serious 
one ; we had to get the wounded out somehow, and we 
had no one to help us. Our troops had retired from 
Missy during the day and we were left all alone in 
front of the Germans and quite at the mercy of their 
guns. The via dolorosa of our sorely wounded was 
on this night a very pitiable one. Exposed to rain, 
lying in the utmost discomfort, compelled to keep for 
hours a cramped position, they deserved our pity. 
The wounded men who had to march were also in a 
sorry plight. These poor fellows were not fit to march ; 
weak with shock, pain, and loss of blood, they ought 
all to have been in bed ; yet they had to march, for we 
could not leave them behind. 

At last all was ready to start. Strict orders were 
given against lights and cigarettes. No talking was 
allowed, for the Germans were just " over the way," 
and they are people with " long ears." 



MISSY ON THE AISNE 101 

Before setting out we buried four officers and five 
men in a grave by the railway, near the bottom of the 
garden. This mournful duty over, the ambulance 
moved off. 

This time we anticipated no delay, as we knew 
the road — vain hope. The night was again very dark, 
and a drizzle of rain was falling. We had just emerged 
from the silent village on the road to Bucy le Long 
when the inky blackness of the night was cut through 
by the powerful beam of a searchlight played from 
the German lines. The light swept slowly up and 
down our column in a zig-zag wave once, and then a 
second time, this time more slowly still. Every detail 
was illuminated with the brilliant glare. The light 
was then fixed ominously on our front waggon, which 
had a big red cross painted on its canvas sides. The 
column kept moving slowly on, but for ten minutes 
that sinister, baleful light played all round the first 
ambulance. We all thought that our last hour had 
come — that after going through such a hellish day in 
the farmhouse at Missy we were to be finally scuppered 
on the muddy road. We knew that the Germans were 
only about 800 yards away. With strained nerves we 
waited, expecting them to turn a machine-gun on us. 
The searchlight played up and down the column once 
more and then was turned in another direction. My 
impression is that the Germans made out the red cross 
on the leading waggon and so let us pass. If they 
wished they could have destroyed us easily. We all 
breathed again and continued on our way. After passing 



102 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

through Bucy le Long, where we again saw our soldiers, 
we came across some returning-empty motor lorries. 
We placed all our marching wounded on to these and 
eased off the pressure in the country carts by taking off 
a few men. At Venizel we were held up for five hours. 
The pontoon bridge had given way during the day 
under the weight of a piece of heavy French artillery. 
The gun had been fished out from the bottom of the 
Aisne with great difficulty, but the horses were drowned. 
The Engineers were straining every nerve to repair 
the bridge. It was vitally important to hurry, as this 
bridge was the only artery of communication between 
our advanced troops and the ammunition supplies. 
At last we got across and reached Mont de Soissons, 
our ambulance headquarters, at nine in the morning. 
The wounded were handed over to the other medical 
officers. Men and officers were completely done up. 
We had been marching during two anxious, harassing 
nights, and had lived through a bad day, but — -we got 
out our wounded. 



CHAPTER XI. 
ON THE AISNE AT MONT DE SOISSONS. 

Our Field Ambulance headquarters at the Chateau- 
farm of Mont de Soissons was occupied by us till October. 
During this time our army was righting hard. Most of 
the days were rainy, and the trenches on the other side 
of the river suffered from this. To our right was 
Braisne on the river, and to our far right was Reims. 
To our left was Soissons — about eight miles away. 
We were about fifty-eight miles from Paris. 

Our billet was a good one. Imagine a huge hollow 
square surrounded by stone buildings, and the square 
itself filled with an enormous manure heap. One side 
of the square was taken up by the two-storied old 
stone building containing kitchen, hall, sleeping- 
rooms, and offices. Stables for sheep, cows, and 
horses formed two sides. The fourth side was a 
truly beautiful and artistic one. It was formed by 
a wonderful old chapel, and remains of what was part 
of the refectory and cellars of a monastery. These 
buildings were in a splendid state of preservation, and 
were now used to hold straw and cattle fodder. The 
chapel had been built by the Knights Templars, and was 

in its day a place of renown. It is indeed a pity that 

103 



104 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

such historic buildings are so neglected and forgotten. 
In the lofts of the dwelling-house and in a shed outside 
we put our sick and wounded men. In a bedroom 
downstairs we put the wounded officers. We were 
principally concerned at this time in the transportation 
of sick and wounded to railhead. Although we were 
at headquarters of an ambulance, no preparation or 
effort was made for any special treatment. Very few 
of our cases remained more than twelve to twenty-four 
hours. Motor lorries arrived at Mont de Soissons 
every morning, and on these our men piled straw and 
placed the men, covering all with a huge tarpaulin 
cover raised tent fashion on upright sticks. This 
method of transporting wounded was crude and brutal. 
There were no motor ambulances at this time. The 
first motor ambulance arrived after we had been ten 
days at Mont de Soissons. Why motor ambulances 
were not with us from the beginning of the war is a 
question which the Army Medical Department will 
have to answer when the war is over, and the necessary 
public washing-day arrives. 

Several wounded men and officers died at Mont de 
Soissons and were buried in the garden alongside a 
stone wall. Wooden crosses mark each grave-head, 
and two of them have stone crosses erected and en- 
graved by one of our orderlies. And the women of the 
house and neighbourhood attend to the graves, and place 
flowers on them. It is beautiful to see how reverently 
the French women look after our soldiers' graves. The 
old lady — the owner of this farm-chateau — has the 



AT MONT DE SOISSONS 105 

names and dates of burial of all officers and men in- 
terred in this garden, and the relatives of these dead 
heroes will be able one day to visit this quiet corner of a 
garden in France and will see how beautifully the 
graves have been tended by the simple, kindly French 
peasant women. 

Our life at this place was full of interest. In front 
of us were our own batteries, behind the ridge ; then 
beyond was the river, and beyond that our advanced 
troops in the trenches. To our left, the French 
occupied Soissons. The French artillery was continually 
in action, pounding on every day sans cesse and 
generally also through the night, and it was excellent 
and well served ; but our guns were silent most of the 
day. At eleven o'clock in the morning they would 
open up and leisurely plunge their shot across the 
valley at Fort Conde for half an hour ; then remain 
silent till four or five in the evening, when another 
bombardment would commence and continue till dark. 

Occasionally they seemed to wake up and become 
very angry, and on these occasions would bark and roar 
and screech for a couple of hours. The Germans never 
refused an artillery duel, and when our batteries seemed 
to wake up the Germans did too, and hurtled across 
their shot at a tremendous pace. The Germans at 
this time wasted an enormous lot of ammunition, but 
they nevertheless were extraordinarily formidable and 
effective with this arm. There was a small embank- 
ment outside our farmhouse, and this was a box seat 
de luxe every afternoon from four till half-past six 



106 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

o'clock. On our right, stretching on to Reims, and 
on our left towards Soissons, the artillery, German, 
French, and British, was then at its best. Sometimes 
the sound would be deafening all along the line, some- 
times it would concentrate itself in our particular 
corner. Directly opposite us, on the far side of the 
river at Fort Conde, the Germans had a very strong 
artillery position. Their guns there outranged ours at 
first, and used on fine evenings, at the usual concert 
hour, to give us some splendid exhibitions. First 
would come one shot to the right, and then one to the 
left. Then four flashes of yellow flame followed by 
huge cascades of earth would appear to strike the same 
spot, and a few seconds after the dub-dub-dub-dub 
of the explosions would reverberate and re-echo across 
the hills and valleys. They would sometimes pick out 
one particular area of ground on our front and simply 
cover every yard of it with bursting shells. At other 
times they would plant a line of shells right across a 
particular place. Again they seemed sometimes to go 
" shell mad/" and would wildly send shells to all points 
of the compass. In the darkness of an autumn night 
the bursting of the shells was a terribly magnificent 
sight. We could see our shells, and especially the French 
shells, burst over the German positions. The French 
artillery always excited our admiration. The great 
guns, the men, the rapidity of fire, the noise, and the 
terrible bursting charges were all wonderful. No 
wonder France is proud of her big guns and her splendid 
gunners. 



AT MONT DE SOISSONS 107 

About ten o'clock in the mornings we frequently 
were surveyed by Taubes. Many of them were most 
daring. They were always pursued by our men and 
the French ; and wonderful pursuits and flights were 
witnessed. Two of our aeroplanes often started 
together after a Taube. One would fly directly for the 
enemy craft, and one would circle into the upper blue 
and try to get above it. We were told that they 
used to fire at one another with carbines, but we never 
could hear the shots or see any smoke. The Taube 
always made off. Sometimes a Taube would be up 
alone, and after hovering and circling over our gun 
positions would make a sudden dash to directly above 
a battery, drop a smoke signal, and fly away ; this signal 
would be rapidly followed by some German shelling. 
The greatest spectacular effect of all was to watch 
the German shots from their anti-aircraft guns bursting 
round our aeroplanes. It was like pelting a butterfly 
with snowballs. We could see the burst and flash 
long before the sound reached us. The bursts pro- 
duced white and black smoke balls, the black one 
appearing a little higher and later than the white. 
The white smoke balls unrolled themselves into a 
curious shape, very like a big German pipe. There 
was a huge bulb and a long, curling, thick stem. We 
stood often with " our hearts in our mouths " expecting 
that one of our daring flyers had been hit. Smoke-bursts 
would appear below, above, and round the craft, and 
then one shot would seem to actually hit it. But no ; 
a minute afterwards we could make out the little 



108 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

machine flying higher or emerging swaggeringly from 
the midst. We watched our own bursts round a Taube 
with a different spirit, waiting eagerly for the coup de 
grace, and having no humane thoughts for the daring 
pilot. One afternoon we were certain that a Taube had 
been struck, for one burst appeared to be right on, but 
when the smoke cleared away the Taube was still 
going merrily. Then it began to slowly descend, then 
ascend again, and then suddenly plane away to our 
right. From the last shot she really had " got it in the 
neck," as Tommy Atkins puts it, and the machine 
plunged down behind the French lines. The pilot was 
killed, the observer got a fractured spine, and was 
dragged out of the wreckage — paralysed. 

On the 19th September, orders from General French 
were read out congratulating the British troops upon 
their valour and tenacity at the Marne, and commending 
their courage on the Aisne. We were assured that by 
holding on to our present positions the enemy would 
be forced to retire. 

On one Sunday, service was conducted by Monsignor, 
our Catholic chaplain, for Catholic soldiers, in one of 
the stable lofts at the farm. The preacher and the 
men had to climb up a ladder placed on the outside of 
the building, and get into the loft through a small door. 
The ladder was a crazy affair, but Monsignor tested it 
by going up first. He was a light-weight and very 
active, but a burly Falstaffian sergeant looked very 
hesitatingly at it, and it certainly creaked and bent 
considerably as he slowly mounted. The loft was 



AT MONT DE SOISSONS 109 

packed with men, and we heard afterwards that the 
floor was not meant for a heavy weight. We were 
relieved to learn that there were no casualties at the 
service, and that Monsignor and his flock had not 
gone through the floor and startled the horses under- 
neath. 

I spent one forenoon in an advanced artillery 
observation post, and tried to make out the German 
positions through a telescope. We could make out 
some white waggons moving on a road far off, but they 
were out of range. The observation officer got to his 
post by walking up a cutting and then crawling into a 
hole, and there he stood for hour after hour patiently 
watching the other lines, while his sergeant sat close by, 
well concealed, and with a telephone receiver over his 
head. Any observations of importance were "phoned 
back to the battery. These observation posts were 
dangerous " spots," for they were well within the reach 
of enemy shells and afforded very little cover. The 
observation officer here was an enthusiast, and I think 
he was familiar with the outline of every tree and rock 
on the other side. It requires some practice to be 
really expert with a telescope. General officers 
occasionally came up to talk to our observer and peer 
at the opposite ridge. I met this artillery observation 
officer later on in the north of France, and this time he 
was a patient in hospital with a scalp wound. He 
had been in a house well in advance of our own advanced 
line, and had made a small hole in the roof through 
which he obtained a good view of the enemy disposi- 



110 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

tions, and directed the fixe of his battery. The German 
is a wily man, and evidently did not like the position 
of this house, for he shelled it out of existence. I was 
glad that the major got out with nothing more than a 
scalp wound, for good artillerists are worth much to our 
army to-day. Our artillery officers seem to enjoy war 
more than any other branch of the service. This major 
told me that one day his own and a French battery 
got fairly on to a German battery that had done con- 
siderable damage. The Allied guns destroyed the 
Germans, and the French were frantically delighted, 
their colonel coming over and warmly embracing 

Major X and kissing him on both cheeks. We told 

the major that he was a certain starter for the Legion 
of Honour. The major was a happy man when he was 
standing in a hole, or peering round a piece of rock, 
telescope to eye, and a sergeant lying near him with a 
telephone receiver strapped on his head. 

One afternoon on the Aisne we heard that the 
Norfolks, who were in the trenches on our front, were 
hugely delighted. They had just killed a sniper. This 
particular sniper had become notorious, for he was a 
dead shot and had hit many of the Norfolk boys. 
Owing to the vigilance of this particular sniper they 
could not get hot tea into the trenches, and several of 
the Norfolk " Bisleys " were keenly anxious to bag 
him. One day a tree was observed to rustle after a 
sniping shot, and at once the Norfolks sent a hail of 
bullets into that particular tree. This brought the man 
down, for winged by Norfolk bullets the arboreal 



AT MONT DE SOISSONS 111 

Prussian fell out of the branches like a ripe acorn, 
amidst the cheers of the men in the trenches. 

It was said that these snipers on the Aisne belonged 
to the Forest Guards, who were rangers in the Imperial 
forests of Eastern Prussia, and were dead shots, 
accustomed all their lives to shoot wild pigs and 
wolves. They were highly unpopular amongst our 
men. 

Sniping is quite in accordance with the rules of 
war, but the soldiers feel that sniping as the Germans 
play it is not " cricket/' They naturally feel very 
angry with a sniper who gets up a haystack with some 
provisions and ammunition, and after having eaten all 
his food and fired of! all his cartridges calmly emerges 
and surrenders. 

Our men are extraordinarily good to wounded 
Germans and to prisoners, but these sniping sneaks stir 
their venom and ire. I saw one of these surrendered 
uninjured snipers at Ypres meet with savage scowls and 
epithets from some men of a company whose officer 
had been killed by him that morning. 

About the last week of September I brought over 
some motor ambulances full of sick men to Braisne. 
This charming little town, situated on the Aisne and on 
the Marne Canal, was full of ambulances and clearing 
hospitals. Every house almost had a red-cross flag up, 
for the place was crammed with sick and wounded, and 
the clearing hospitals had been very busy with the big 
casualties. Three doctors had been killed a few days 
previously at Vailly when in action with their regiments, 



112 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

and another doctor had died the next day after having 
had his leg amputated for a bad shell wound. He was 
awarded the V.C., but did not live to enjoy that signal 
honour and distinction. 

The clearing hospitals and ambulances were sending 
large numbers of sick soldiers down to the base en 
route for England — mostly cases of dysentery, lumbago, 
and^ rheumatism. Many of these men looked bad 
wrecks, and no wonder, when one remembers the 
rapid, arduous retreat from Mons and Le Cateau in 
the broiling summer heat, followed by the hard fighting 
and marching in the rain from the Marne to the 
Aisne, and how this was succeeded by the hardships, 
miseries, and discomforts in the wet sodden trenches 
at a time when it was impossible to give them hot 
cooked food and sufficient warmth. More men were 
wanted, and until they arrived the few had to do the 
work of many. The 5th Division had been promised 
a rest in reserve to recuperate, but not a man could be 
spared from the line we were so hardly holding, and so 
they simply had to " plug on," and, as cheerfully as they 
could, sing " It's a long, long way to Tipperary " ; but 
they did not sing much at this time. 

While we were at Mont de Soissons and a week after 
the arrival of our first red-cross motor ambulances, 
we were given instructions to look out for a mysterious 
red-cross motor-car driven by an officer in khaki who 
had a beard and wore a red-cross brassard on his 
arm. This car seemed to be very busy and was con- 
stantly travelling up and down the roads and always 



AT MONT DE SOXSSONS 113 

at high speed — too high a speed to be challenged. 
Sitting at the front of the car and next the driver 
was a nurse, dressed in nurse's uniform, wearing a white 
cap, and also with a red-cross brassard on the left arm. 
We smelt something fishy about it all. Firstly, none 
of our medical officers wore beards ; secondly, medical 
officers did not drive motor ambulances about ; thirdly, 
there were no nurses with us. Nurses are not allowed 
in the fighting line. We watched for this car always, 
and always wondered what we would do if we did 
sight it, for none of us had arms, and this villain with 
the beard would be sure to have a loaded six-shooter 
near at hand. Two days after our warning the car was 
spotted by a sentry, who challenged, but the driver went 
furiously past him. He was not out of the bush though, 
for a barricade had been erected half-way across the 
road at a very sharp turn, and to get round this the car 
had to slow down to " dead slow." A British sentry 
was here, and other soldiers were standing not far away. 
The bearded driver was ordered to stop and get out 
under cover of the sentry's rifle. The guard came up 
and the two motorists were arrested. 

The man with the beard was a German spy right 
through, and he was handed over to the French, who 
shot him at daybreak next day. They say he died 
very gamely. 

The " nurse " who sat beside him was not shot. We 
were told that " she " was really a man, a dapper little 
German waiter who had been on the staff of a leading 
hotel in Paris for some years. I saw the man with the 



114 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

beard shortly after he was arrested. He looked quiet 
and scholarly and somewhat meek, but " still waters 
run deep." 

At 4 a.m. on the 27th of September we were all 
" turned out " by our O.C., who had just received urgent 
orders to be prepared to leave Mont de Soissons as the 
Germans " were over the river." After standing by for 
two hours we got word that it was a false alarm. Some- 
thing had been irritating the Germans this morning, 
for at daybreak they opened a furious fire on our 
positions. As far as we knew it wasn't the Kaiser's 
birthday or the anniversary of any prehistoric German 
victory, so we put it down to nerves. Their gunners 
made a dead set on a field in our front just behind the 
ridge along the Aisne. Hundreds of Black Marias and 
shrapnel were sent on to that unlucky piece of ground, 
and it was wonderful to see the shot-ridden earth sent 
up in huge volcanic bursts. The enemy thought that 
we had a battery there, but we hadn't one nearer than 
half a mile, hence our enjoyment of the spectacle. 

On the afternoon of this day we heard that Mr. 
Winston Churchill was with us and was dining with the 
Scots Greys. At least that was the rumour, but we 
hardly believed anything we heard out here. He was 
reported to have said that the war would last another 
eighteen months. This piece of information, following 
on an early morning's alarm and in cold wet weather, 
was distinctly cheering ! However, as a kind of set-off, 
in the late afternoon we heard that the Crown Prince 
had been buried again, this time ill the Argonne, 



AT MONT DE SOISSONS 115 

and that it had been authentically established that 
he was quite dead before having been buried. We were 
glad to know this, because on the other occasions when 
he had been buried, he had not really been quite dead. 

We were at this period suffering from the effects 
of a dislocated postal system. I had not yet received 
any letters from England, and did not know if mine had 
reached there. We were all anxious to get the London 
papers to " see how we were getting on at the front." 
We knew what was going on around us, but knew nothing 
more. One medical officer returned from Braisne, told 
us that he had heard a great rumour there. We were 
all agog to hear it. After whetting our appetites he 
gravely told us that a Padre had informed him that, 
" All Europe was in the melting pot and the devil was 
stirring the broth." This officer was duly punished by 
having his rum ration cut off. 

One day on the Aisne I was an interested listener 
to a discussion between two British officers and three 
French officers on national characteristics, and this led 
up to a review of the way that the British, French, 
and German charge with the bayonet. 

The French charge magnificently with the bayonet, 
but they charge in a state of tremendous excitement. 
When rushing across an open space to the enemy they 
shout and scream with excitement, " France \" "A 
bas les Boches ! " " En avant ! " They are uplifted 
with the wild ecstasy of the onfall. Men fall in the mad 
rush never to rise again. N'importe — all is unnoticed, 
on they go, an impetuous and irresistible avalanche 



116 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

of steel, yelling, stabbing, slaying, overwhelming. 
They are superb, these Frenchmen. I have seen them 
charge, and know from what I saw the splendid fellows 
they are. In the Argonne, on the Aisne, and in Flanders, 
the French soldier has carried out as resolute and daring 
bayonet charges as ever his fathers did under Napoleon, 
when they stormed the bridge at Lodi, swept over the 
field of Marengo, and hacked their bloody path at 
Austerlitz. 

The British charge stoically and more grimly. 
They do not shout. I have heard them cursing. The 
British line advances as a sinister cold line of steel, 
in a sort of jog-trot. It is a line of cool-brained 
gladiators, alert of eye and thoroughly bent on slaughter. 
Our Briton sees his foe, and smites savagely with the 
calculating judgment of a good Rugby forward and 
with the bound of a wild cat. The disciplined valour 
and the savage relentlessness of the British bayonet 
attack has been heralded in story from Malplaquet to 
Waterloo, from Badajos to Inkermann, and historians 
will chronicle the undying glory of the 7th Division 
at Ypres when with rifle and bayonet it held the gate 
to Calais. 

The German, in spite of what is often said to the 
contrary, is a brave and determined man with the 
bayonet. The German discipline is undoubted. It is 
a part of the people. It is the fibre of the nation. 
Discipline, subjection to authority, has not to be 
taught to this people ; it is absorbed into their very 
being. The discipline of mind and body as we 



AT MONT DE SOISSONS 117 

understand it is not the discipline of the German, 
for his is an obedience to authority only, — a " go " 
when ordered to " go," a " come " when ordered to 
" come/' But it is also a die when ordered to face 
certain death. Men with whom this discipline is a 
message may not make saints or pleasant companions, 
but do make sturdy foes and stubborn fighters. 

They charge well, advancing with a stooping, jerky 
trot, uttering hoarse guttural cries and " Hurrahs." On 
they come, in solid masses shoulder to shoulder, hoping 
by the weight and speed of the dense columns to get a 
momentum that nothing can withstand. When in a 
solid compact phalanx this German charge is very 
dangerous and formidable, and has been able, although 
at a frightful cost, to brush aside and overwhelm 
veteran British and French troops. 

But if this compact line and solid column is broken, 
as it so often is to-day by shrapnel, rifle, or machine-gun 
fire, the sense of cohesion or " shoulder to shoulder " 
support is lost, and the heavy column is then no match 
for the lightning bayonet onfall of the French infantry 
or the weighty heave forward of a British regiment. 
The German infantryman is not an " individual " 
fighter, but he is nevertheless a brave soldier, and knows 
how to meet death. All three peoples have a great 
respect for each other when it comes to close quarters 
and take no chances. 

A curious feature of French bayonet charges was 
told me by a French officer. He said that if the daily 
dispatches were read carefully it would be noticed that 



118 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

the Germans, when they attacked the French, generally 
made them vacate the first trench, but that the French 
always counter-attacked, retook their own, and carried 
the charge on into the German lines. He said that 
the Frenchmen are very easily surprised and are only 
at their best when they know what they are up against 
and what they have to do. They also require at times 
to be worked up to the " fire " of the business, and that 
this was specially true of younger troops. The officers 
know this, and when their men fall back from the front 
trench, they get them together, tell them that they 
must go forward again, — that France is watching them, 
that the cursed German has his foot in beautiful 
France, that the sons of the men of Jena and Wagram 
must still show their metal ; then drawing his sword, 
and with " En avant, mes enfants," the officer leads 
forward, followed by his cheering men, and they are at 
these times irresistible. 

There is a story told at the front of a famous 
Scottish regiment whose deeds have won admiration in 
nearly every battle in English history, which occupied 
some advanced trenches. The Germans rushed them 
in overwhelming numbers and drove them out with 
the bayonet. Another regiment, composed almost 
entirely of little Cockneys, was called up in support, 
and gallantly rushing forward drove out the Germans 
and took many prisoners. They then told the brawny 
Scotchmen that they could go back to their trenches 

again and if they felt anxious at any time the M 

boys from London would be only too pleased to come 



AT MONT DE SOISSONS 119 

back and comfort them. Some weeks afterwards the 
Kilties helped the Cockneys out of a hot corner, so the 
odds are now even. 

Talking of bayonet charges leads up to bayonet 
wounds. It is a curious fact, well noted amongst 
surgeons at the front, that there are very few bayonet 
wounds to treat. Yet bayonet charges are constantly 
taking place, and very bloody melees they are. 

Where are these men who have been speared by 
the bayonet ? The majority are dead, for the bayonet 
when it gets home is a lethal weapon. When it pierces 
the chest or abdomen it, as a rule, reaches a big 
artery ; a rapid hemorrhage follows, and death comes 
speedily. 

The majority of bayonet wounds are in the chest 
and abdomen, and ghastly terrible wounds they are. 
After the Bavarians and Prussians were hurled back 
at Ypres and La Bassee there were comparatively 
few bayonet wounds. Amongst the vast number of 
wounded men in the Clearing Hospital at Bethune I 
had personally to treat only one or two cases of bayonet 
wounds. These were, as a rule, simple flesh wounds, 
and were the lucky exceptions amongst the bayonet 
victims. 

This feature about bayonet wounds was also noted by 
Larrey, the surgeon-in-chief to Napoleon during the 
great Continental wars, by M'Grigor, surgeon-in-chief 
to Wellington in the Peninsula, and by surgical ob- 
servers at a later period during the Crimean War. A 
war correspondent in the Crimea wrote that a man 



120 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

who has been bayoneted dies in great pain, that his 
body and limbs are twisted and contorted by the last 
agonised movements preceding death. This belief is 
fallacious. Men who die speedily from a sudden loss 
of blood die easily and quietly. They go to sleep. 

The German bayonet is longer, broader, and heavier 
than that of the Allies. The French bayonet is not a 
blade, but is shaped like a spear or stiletto. The British 
bayonet is a blade, short and light. It is not, however, 
the blade or the stiletto, it is the man behind that 
counts. 

I mentioned before that our sick and wounded were 
housed in a loft of the farm-chateau of Mont de Soissons 
and in a shed outside. This shed or lean-to was a most 
uninviting place for the sick. One side was formed by 
a stone wall, from the top of that a roof projected, and 
this roof was held up by wooden pillars. There was no 
floor and there were no other walls. It was quite open 
to every wind that blew, except for the protection of the 
stone wall and the roof. Straw was laid on the ground 
of this lean-to and this straw, owing to the constant 
rain and the very muddy, filthy state of the roads and 
yards round about, got very sodden at times. New 
straw was then put on top of this old straw — that was 
all. It wasn't very much, truly. Yet badly wounded 
men were brought in in large numbers from the trenches 
and kept lying on this sodden straw for hours, and in 
some cases for a whole day and night. If the wounded 
man arrived after eleven o'clock in the morning he had 
to put up with a night on the straw in this lean-to. If 



AT MONT DE SOISSONS 121 

the man was sick from one of the usual diseases prevalent 
at this time — lumbago, rheumatism, and sciatica — he 
was led up to the loft in the main house. If he had a 
slight wound he was also led up to this place, but if he 
had a compound fracture or an abdominal injury it was 
necessary to carry him up on a stretcher, and the stair 
up to the loft was so narrow that the task was an 
extremely difficult one, and full of pain and misery 
to the patient. The loft was a draughty hole and not 
fit to accommodate a sick mountain goat. But it was a 
Buckingham Palace to the Whitechapel lean-to on the 
stone wall outside. Yet on this dirty sodden straw I 
have dressed foul, septic compound fractures, have 
elevated a fragment of loose bone pressing on a man's 
brain, and have stood by men dying from gas gangrene, 
and from pneumonia due to exposure from lying out 
in the rain and cold after having been wounded. And 
every time I saw men lying out in that open shed I 
have asked, " Why have we not motor ambulances at 
the front ? " Every morning empty lorries returning 
from distributing their supplies at the front called in at 
Mont de Soissons and took our wounded down to rail- 
head ; and this method of transportation of the wounded 
was one of the horrors of war. Our wounded and sick 
did not arrive according to any time-table, and if they 
arrived at midday or in the afternoon or evening, they 
had, willy-nilly, to be accommodated at the chateau- 
farm, and the only accommodation we could offer was 
the windy, inhospitable loft or the straw-covered lean-to 
outside. If we had had motor ambulances all of this 



122 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

would have been avoided. Then the patients would 
not have had to be sent to our headquarters at all, but 
could have been carried to railhead at once. Why did 
we not have motor ambulances at the outset of war ? 
God knows. Had anyone asked me five years ago what 
was the best way of transporting a wounded or sick man 
with an army in the field, I would have answered at 
once, " By motor ambulance, of course." 

If a man is wounded in the streets of London or any 
other city in the civilised world he is conveyed to the 
nearest hospital by an ambulance motor-car. When the 
Army Service Corps had to arrange its transport for this 
war, they naturally thought of nothing else than motor 
traction. Yet in spite of the lessons of army manoeuvres 
in this country, and of the dictates of reason, our Army 
Medical Department sent Field Ambulances to the front 
with the old horse-ambulance of the days of Napoleon 
and Wellington, and did not have a solitary motor 
ambulance where they were so vitally necessary. The 
position was so odd and incomprehensible that I wrote 

about it to Lord , who, I knew, would look at the 

matter from the view-point of common sense and 

humanity. Lord has a great name in the Empire, 

and has been one of the best and ablest of governors of 
one of our Dominions beyond the seas. I knew that if 
I wrote to him, and he chose to act as I was sure he would, 
something would occur. I did not, owing to army postal 
delays, get his answer till long after, and it was worded 
as follows (allowing for considerable deletions of some 
parts of it, and for names) : 




Loading wounded at Soissons. The first motor ambulance on the Aisne. 




The lean-to at Soissons. Unloading wounded. 



AT MONT DE SOISSONS 123 

"My Dear Martin, — I received your letter in 
London on Wednesday night. Within half an hour 

of its arrival I hunted up Mr. . I found him in a 

state of great indignation because of the obstacles put 

in the way of giving the assistance they desire to 

the wounded at the Front. I understand, however, 
that sixty motor ambulances will be ready on Wednesday 
next, and that further ambulances will be provided 
later. Your letter has been read by Lord Kitchener. 
It arrived at an opportune moment, when the great want 
of motor ambulances at the Front was being realised 
here. I hope that even before you receive this letter 
the scandal which makes you so righteously indignant 
may have been removed and that proper arrangements 
are now in successful operation for the treatment of the 
wounded. 

" Please let me hear from you from time to time how 
things are going, and always remember that I shall 
be more than pleased if I can give you the slightest 
assistance in getting those things done which you may 
think necessary. — Believe me, yours sincerely, 



Shortly after this, motor ambulances appeared, 
and the position eased, to the infinite and lasting benefit 
of our wounded officers and men. I still, however, often 
wonder why motor ambulances were not landed in 
France with the other motor vehicles when our Expedi- 
tionary Army disembarked. Many lives would have 
been saved, and much suffering would have been 
avoided. 



CHAPTER XII. 

FIELD AMBULANCES AND MILITARY HOSPITALS. 

The military medical unit known as a Field Ambulance 
deserves some description. 

The Field Ambulances are officially designated as 
Divisional Troops under the command of the Assistant 
Director of Medical Services. A Field Ambulance 
consists of three sections, known as A, B, and C sections, 
and each of these sections is divided into a " bearer " 
and a " tent " subdivision. 

The personnel consists of a commanding officer, 
generally a major or a lieutenant-colonel of the 
Royal Army Medical Corps, who is always in one of 
the tent subdivisions, and of nine other medical officers 
and a quartermaster, generally an honorary lieutenant 
or captain, of the R.A.M.C. In addition there are 242 
of other ranks, bearers, orderlies, cooks, Army Service 
Corps drivers, officers' servants, dispensers, clerks, 
washermen, etc. The personnel is fairly evenly divided 
amongst the three sections, so that on occasion a 
section of a Field Ambulance can carry on a limited 
but complete service. As will be seen later on at 
Bethune, one section of our ambulance did this, and 
for a time acted as a Clearing Hospital and passed 



AMBULANCES AND MILITAEY HOSPITALS 125 

thousands of wounded through its hands. B and C 
sections have three four-horsed ambulance waggons, 
and A section has four, making a total of ten waggons 
for the transport of wounded. The other transport 
of a Field Ambulance consists of six general service 
waggons, three medical store carts, three water carts, 
a cooks 5 cart, and an extra cart for odd jobs. The 
drivers and grooms have about one hundred horses 
to look after. 

The Field Ambulance carries a complete hospital 
emergency equipment. Theoretically, if necessary a 
serious abdominal operation, a trephining operation, 
or an amputation could be carried out at an ambulance 
station by skilled surgeons surrounded by the latest 
and best of surgical instruments and in antiseptic 
surroundings. I said theoretically, but as a matter of 
fact such a state of affairs is not achieved, and the 
surgery performed at Field Ambulance stations is 
crude and temporary. 

A Field Ambulance station is a first-aid station, and 
surgery is avoided as much as possible. The equipment 
of our Field Ambulance to-day leaves very much to 
be desired, and I earnestly hope that during this war 
the whole organisation will be thoroughly reviewed, 
reorganised, and remodelled, and that there will be 
evolved a medical unit more in consonance with the 
modern conceptions of good clean surgery. The Field 
Ambulance should receive the wounded from the 
Brigade which it serves, and as long as it holds these 
wounded it should be able to give them the very be t 



126 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

surgical and medical help. It must send the wounded 
as speedily as possible to the hospitals and stations 
in the rear, and keep the fighting line, of which it 
is really a part, as clear of wounded as possible. It 
must conform to the demands of the military situation ; 
for after all war is war, and the purpose of a war is to 
beat the enemy with sound troops and get the wounded 
out of the way. A Field Ambulance can do all this 
and must do all this, and yet it need not be too obsessed 
with the idea that immediately a badly wounded man 
is brought in he must necessarily be bundled off to the 
base, irrespective of the nature or magnitude of his 
wounds. The future of very many battlefield in- 
juries depends on the first treatment received, and a 
skilled surgeon surrounded with familiar tools and 
appliances to ensure absolute cleanliness can be a god of 
mercy and confer health and power on many a stricken 
man. A blundering, incompetent amateur, lacking the 
divine essence of knowing his own imperfections and 
courageously taking responsibilities which are sky- 
high above him, can inflict a lifelong wrong and deprive 
a man of his power to earn his livelihood in the future. 
The cautious and conservative surgeon is ever the 
boldest when boldness means success. In every Field 
Ambulance in this war and in future wars, let us see 
to it that we have a cautious and conservative surgeon. 
The medical officer is not as a rule a good horse 
master. From my experience (and I am speaking 
both from what I saw in the South African War and 
in this war), the medical officer is a very indifferent 



AMBULANCES AND MILITARY HOSPITALS 127 

horse master. He will do his best, as he always does 
in all circumstances ; but it is clearly unfair to ask a 
doctor, who knows as much about horses as a monk 
does about antelopes, to take charge of a unit com- 
prising about one hundred horses, sixteen four-horsed 
waggons, and seven or eight two-horsed carts, Army 
Service Corps drivers, and a miscellaneous lot of grooms. 
I have seen an amiable and competent Army Medical 
officer dismayed when he was compelled, owing to 
some duty, to get on a horse's back, and the horse 
seemed to know and enjoy it, for, usually a docile, 
mild-eyed beast, he at these times became exceedingly 
sportive. Yet this officer may have, owing to his rank, 
to assume charge later of a hundred horses and a lot 
of waggons. A shoemaker should stick to his last, 
and a doctor is only at home with his own professional 
work. 

The remedy is to put Field Ambulances under 
trained officers of the Army Service Corps. They are 
experts in the management of convoys and transports, 
and could manage the field work of an ambulance to 
the infinite satisfaction of everybody. Leave the 
doctors to the purely professional work. There is 
enough of that to be done. Doctors are too valuable 
as doctors to spare them for work which A.S.C. sub- 
alterns and young captains can perform. The ar- 
ranging of advanced dressing stations, the choosing 
of buildings as hospital sites, can be done by the A.D.M.S. 
of the division, and the purely workman's part of the 
job can be done by the A.S.C. officer and his men. 



128 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

The transportation of wounded from the fighting 
line has been extraordinarily well carried out by the 
Royal Army Medical Corps and the Red Cross since 
our army took up its present fighting line in France and 
Flanders. During the great retreat the transportation 
was ineffective, and there is no doubt at all that many 
of our wounded who had to be left behind could have 
been rescued if we had had motor ambulance convoys 
as we have to-day. 

On the Marne, and for the first week on the Aisne, the 
transport of the wounded to the base was most im- 
perfect. Who is to blame for this is a matter that will 
have to be thrashed out when the piping days of peace 
arrive, and we have time once again to put our house 
in order and profit by the lessons of the war. The only 
means of transport previous to the arrival of the 
motor ambulances was by transport lorries belonging 
to the Army Service Corps. These waggons brought 
provisions and supplies to the front, and on returning 
empty had to call at the various ambulance stations. 
Straw was laid on the floors of these lorries, and the 
wounded were packed tightly on the straw. This 
method of transportation for a man suffering from 
pneumonia or compound fracture, a chest wound or a 
wound in the abdomen, was a terrible ordeal, and un- 
doubtedly added intense suffering, misery, and dis- 
comfort to our badly stricken soldiers. Things im- 
proved directly on the advent of the comfortable, 
well-sprung motor ambulance. From the firing line 
to the horsed or motor ambulance the man is carried 



AMBULANCES AND MILITAEY HOSPITALS 129 

on a stretcher by hand, but all future transportation is 
by motor ambulance, train, river-barge, and steamer. 

When a man is wounded at the front he is brought 
in by regimental bearers to the dressing station of the 
medical officer of the battalion. This is generally either 
a " dug-out " or is situated in a cottage a little way back 
or sometimes behind a stone wall or near a clump of 
trees. Here the regimental doctor simply dresses the 
wound, as cleanly as possible under the circumstances, 
stops all bleeding and applies rough splints to fractured 
limbs, and administers morphia if there is much pain. 
These regimental aid posts are dangerous places well 
within shell fire, and the wounded are got out of them 
as quickly as possible, and generally at night. They 
are carried on stretchers to the ambulance waggons — 
horse or motor — which are drawn up on some point 
of a road, or sometimes in a village farther back. From 
here the wounded man is conveyed to the headquarters 
of the ambulance in a village or chateau or church, 
and his wounds are again dressed, if necessary, but as 
little handling as possible is done, although the soldier 
thinks that his wounds should be frequently dressed. 
At the ambulance headquarters urgent operations, often 
of a serious character, have sometimes to be carried 
out, but no operation is done if the case will permit of 
safe transportation farther back. The next rest-house 
for the wounded man is the Clearing Hospital or Casualty 
Clearing Station, and through this pass the wounded of 
many ambulances. Many wounded are brought direct 
from the trenches to a Casualty Clearing Hospital with- 
9 



130 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

out calling at all at the ambulance headquarters. 
All urgent operations are performed at the Casualty 
Clearing Station, and this station should be thoroughly 
well equipped in staff and personnel as well as with all 
the modern appurtenances so necessary for the safe 
performance of intricate and dangerous surgical 
operations. 

For obvious reasons the Clearing Hospital or 
Casualty Clearing Station could not fulfil its destiny 
during the retreat of our army from Belgium to the 
east of Paris. If the army is retreating, the Clearing 
Hospital must go. It is part of the line of communica- 
tions and would impede and cumber the fighting 
divisions as they fall back. If full of wounded at this 
time, it would of course be captured by the advancing 
enemy, as the Clearing Hospital has no transport of its 
own, and depends on the regular transport department 
of the army. There ought to be a transport attached 
to a Clearing Hospital and solely under the control of 
the commanding officer, and it would be of great 
advantage to have the whole Clearing Hospital under 
the command of an Army Service Corps officer of 
experience, a man accustomed to the transportation 
of supplies and to commanding drivers of vehicles 
and mechanics. To put a Clearing Hospital under the 
command of a doctor as is now done is as absurd as it 
would be to place a large civil hospital under the 
control of a doctor. 

Our civil hospitals are governed by Boards and a 
Secretary who has the whole administration at his 



AMBULANCES AND MILITARY HOSPITALS 131 

finger-ends. The medical staff do not control or govern 
a civil hospital. They are busy enough in their own 
sphere, which is a purely professional one — the treatment 
and cure of the sick inmates. So with the Clearing 
Hospitals, the Army Service Corps officer should be 
in charge of the hospital, and the purely professional 
part of the hospital, the treatment of the wounded, 
should be entirely and absolutely under the control 
of the medical staff, and completely outside the range 
of action of the administrative chief. The evacuation 
of the wounded from the Clearing Hospital to the 
hospital train and Base could be controlled also by the 
administrative lay head of the hospital, and all that 
the medical officers would be concerned with would be 
the cases suitable to evacuate and when they should 
be evacuated. There would at first be considerable 
opposition to this course by the regular Army Medical 
Corps, but they could not advance any cogent argu- 
ments against the devolution of administrative author- 
ity from them to the Army Service Corps. 

The Royal Army Medical Corps is, or should be, 
a professional body of men. Anything that impairs 
their professional efficiency is bad. The control of 
Field Ambulances and Clearing Hospitals is not a 
professional man's metier, and he does not shine in this 
position. Too much military control or command 
changes the army medical officer from a doctor to a 
military officer, and this change is not to be desired. 

In civil life the more experienced a doctor is, the 
bigger becomes his practice and the wider becomes 



132 A SUBGEON IN KHAKI 

his sphere of professional usefulness. In military life, 
experience means promotion to higher rank, and the 
higher the rank the less the professional work and the 
more the administrative work. 

In war time, as witness South Africa and this present 
war, civil surgeons have to be called in large numbers 
to undertake important surgical work. The experience 
of medical officers of the army in peace is professionally 
a poor one. They are rarely called upon to perform 
serious surgical operations, for a man requiring an 
important surgical operation is no longer of use as a 
soldier, and is invalided out of the army. This man 
then necessarily comes under the civilian surgeon, who 
sets about to cure him, if possible, of his affliction. An 
urgent appendix operation, a rupture, the removal of a 
loose cartilage in a knee joint and varicose veins in their 
various manifestations — these, roughly speaking, com- 
pose the experience in surgery of the army doctor in 
times of peace. 

In advanced and intricate surgery in the abdomen 
he gets no practice, and yet it is just the experience 
gained in this branch of surgery that is so vitally 
important to surgeons at the front to-day. 

A surgeon at the front should be a man of ripe 
judgment and a good operator. He should know when 
to operate, and what is equally important, when not to 
operate. He should know whether a wounded man 
should be operated upon at once without exposing 
him to the risk of further transportation, or whether he 
could be transported to a Base Hospital without en- 



AMBULANCES AND MILITARY HOSPITALS 133 

dangering his safety. And if the case demands im- 
mediate surgery at the front, this surgeon should be 
able to undertake the operation himself. Surgeons of 
approved judgment and skill are not hard to find, and 
every Base Hospital, every stationary Hospital, every 
Casualty Clearing Hospital, every Field Ambulance 
should have one officer on its staff possessing the 
qualities and attributes mentioned. And such a dis- 
tribution is the easiest thing in the world to effect. 

These men can be drawn from the civil side of the 
profession, as the military side, the Royal Army Medical 
Corps proper, cannot provide them. 

There are of course able surgeons in the Royal 
Army Medical Corps, men who, were they in civil 
life, would have large consulting practices and great 
reputations, but these men are few and are of that 
surgical bent which will rise superior to its military 
environment, and keeping touch with modern work, 
will absorb all that is good and new in the methods and 
technique of surgery. 

This lack of appreciation of the requirements of 
modern surgery has been evidenced in so many instances 
at the front with our Field Ambulance and Clearing 
Hospital equipment. 

One day early in the war I had a number of wounded 
men to treat, all with dirty septic wounds. The method 
of sterilising our hands was inefficient and I asked for 
rubber gloves. Rubber gloves for the hands of the 
surgeon are absolutely essential when dealing with a 
number of septic cases. After handling septic cases 



134 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

he may be called upon at any moment to operate on 
a case requiring the strictest antisepsis or asepsis to 
give the wounded man a fighting chance of life. I asked 
a senior medical officer of the ambulance for these 
rubber gloves. Judge of my consternation and amaze- 
ment when he said that " There were no rubber gloves 
in the ambulance equipment, and he did not believe 
in the necessity for rubber gloves." When the ambulance 
was being equipped previous to leaving this country 
at the outbreak of war he could have obtained as many 
pairs of rubber gloves as he wished, but because he did 
not think them necessary, they were not obtained. He 
did not realise what war surgery would be like and had 
not been accustomed to operate on a large scale. This 
blunder on his part was inexcusable and serious, and 
the one who suffered from such a blunder was not him- 
self but a wounded officer or man. 

In a Clearing Hospital in a small town in France 
to which I was temporarily attached for some days, 
again I could not obtain rubber gloves, although I 
had there to operate on profoundly septic cases, on the 
cases of appalling gas gangrene and also on recent 
wounds of knee joints, of brain, and abdomen. I 
asked for rubber gloves and was promised them. None 
came. On my own initiative I wrote to a London 
surgical supply establishment and obtained three dozen 
pairs of rubber gloves by return mail. 
Was this fair to our wounded ? 
At another time I had a difficult bowel operation 
to do, and the only fine needles in stock could not be 



AMBULANCES AND MILITARY HOSPITALS 135 

used as the finest silk available there would not go 
through the eyes of the needles. The examination of 
the silk and the needles had not been carried out when 
the equipment was being put together in England. At 
this same place I had nothing strong enough to ligature 
blood-vessels at the bottom of deep septic wounds, 
except silk. The catgut was too fine and brittle to hold 
a big blood-vessel, yet any surgeon will tell you that to 
put a silk ligature on a vessel in a foul wound is very 
bad surgical technique. Yet it had to be done. Again, 
in a dangerous operation on the knee joint I could not 
get any sterilised towels nor an aneurism needle nor a 
pair of scissors. The only scissors had been lost, and 
only one aneurism needle, which had also been lost, 
was supplied in the instrument case. The patient was 
an officer who had been struck by shrapnel at the back 
of the knee, on the shoulder, and on one foot and one 
hand. He bled smartly and was admitted to this 
Clearing Hospital with a tourniquet round his thigh to 
control the bleeding temporarily. I opened up the 
wound behind the knee and secured the large bleeding 
artery and veins there, and all I had to ligature these 
vessels with was silk. There was no stout catgut, as 
there ought to have been. Also I could only get two 
sterilised towels, and these I had to boil myself. This 
was in a Clearing Hospital at the front in November 
last year. There were no gloves. There were none of 
the things round one to treat shock from which the 
officer suffered after the operation. It made one 
despair. Yet all of these things should have been &t 



136 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

hand, and could have been easily obtained by the 
exercise of some forethought. No wonder the wounds 
in so many cases were at this time sent back to England 
in such a foul and septic condition. It was not the 
military authorities who were to blame. The military 
chiefs did all they could to help the medical depart- 
ment and always have done so. The fault lay at the 
door of the Royal Army Medical Corps chiefs, and after 
the war these things will again be reviewed in order to 
prevent a future repetition. 

My criticism is meant entirely for the good of our 
wounded officers and men. They deserve the best, and 
it is the duty of the Army Medical Department to give 
them of the best. It is only by pointing out defects 
that improvement can follow, and the only man who 
can point out these medical defects is a surgeon who has 
actually had to operate on wounded men in a Field 
Ambulance or in a Clearing Hospital under adverse 
surroundings. 

It is an easy matter to arrange for a modern surgical 
equipment for a Field Ambulance or a Clearing Hospital. 
Sterilisers for instruments and towels and dressings are 
not cumbrous appliances and do not take up much 
space. The surgical instrument case at present in use 
by the Royal Army Medical Corps is out of date and 
requires a complete revision and overhaul by a surgeon 
who is accustomed to operate, and not by a committee 
of senior or retired officers of the Army Medical Staff. 
The younger officers of the Royal Army Medical Corps 
and the " professional *' men amongst the seniors 



AMBULANCES AND MILITARY HOSPITALS 137 

recognise the defects of the present system, but natur- 
ally they cannot say much. This lack of medical 
equipment and the " unreasonableness " of the medical 
department is a common subject of conversation at the 
front amongst civilian medical officers, and I have seen 
some of these men indignant beyond measure at what 
they have seen and met with. 

The Clearing Hospital, in addition to being a " rest- 
house " on the via dolorosa of the wounded, is also a 
sieve. It has to sift the lightly wounded from the 
seriously wounded and the serious cases from the 
desperate cases. In this process of sifting a large col- 
lection of wounded men, it discriminates between those 
who are fit to be sent to the Base and those who must 
remain for a longer or a shorter period. Many claim 
that the Clearing Hospital is not a hospital per se but 
holds a purely administrative position. I feel sure that 
it will become more and more a hospital as time goes 
on, and that its present surgical and medical equip- 
ment will necessarily undergo a complete reorganisa- 
tion. To-day its equipment is little more than that 
of a Field Ambulance. It is not equipped to deal with 
extensive and serious operations, and yet serious opera- 
tions have been performed and will necessarily continue 
to be performed at the Clearing Hospital. 

There is no shadow of doubt that many of the men 
operated upon at Bethune in the Hopital Civil et Mili- 
taire later on in the war owe their recovery in a very 
large measure to the excellence of the complete sterilis- 
ing equipment and cleanly surroundings. No trouble 



138 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

can be too great and no expense should be spared to 
make the surgical stations at the front up to date in 
all that makes for surgical cleanliness. 

It is even more necessary to have the skilled surgeon 
at the front than at the Base, but we have any amount 
of skilled surgeons for both places. A skilled operating 
man of experience should not be attached to a regiment 
as regimental surgeon while a recently qualified man is 
deputed to blood his "prentice hand at a major operation 
in a Clearing Hospital. Yet this has been done, and I 
know of an instance where a recently qualified man per- 
formed his first trephining operation on a soldier with 
a bad head injury whilst a few miles away there 
was an experienced operator engaged solely in first-aid 
work as regimental surgeon. 

I was told by a senior officer of the R.A.M.C. 

that in the city of X before the war he had as 

assistant in his military operating room a very clever 
young R.A.M.C. orderly. This man was well trained 
in the sterilisation of instruments and dressings and 
in the preparation of a room for operations. When the 
ambulance was mobilised in this city on the outbreak 
of war the medical officer applied for this man, who 
would have been invaluable, to be appointed to the 
tent section of the Field Ambulance. Here the training 
and knowledge of this orderly would have been of 
great service. Instead of that, the man was appointed 
to look after the water waggon of an infantry regiment 
and was killed early in the war. Any untrained man 
would have done for the water cart, but a lot of train- 



AMBULANCES AND MILITARY HOSPITALS 139 

ing is necessary to make a good hospital room 
assistant. 

At the Clearing Hospital the wounded man meets 
for the first time the Army Nurse. This is the nearest 
point to the firing line that our nurses are allowed to go, 
but I know lots of them who are extremely anxious to 
go into the trenches. The nurse is a welcome sight to 
both officers and men, and no man nurse can adequately 
take the place of a trained woman. The presence of 
nursing sisters in a hospital is good and wholesome, and 
where they are the hospital work is carried on infinitely 
better and the patient is well looked after. R.A.M.C. 
orderlies do not like our nursing sisters. The sister 
makes the orderly work, will not allow him to smoke 
in the wards, makes him wash his hands and keep tidy. 
To the slacker, of course, these things are highly un- 
palatable, and there are many slackers about. Our 
British nursing sisters are splendid women, and work 
ungrudgingly and sympathetically always. It is good 
to see a bright-faced, white-aproned nurse amongst the 
wounded, and she is extraordinarily popular with her 
patients. 

The hospital train in France is a well-run unit. The 
accommodation for the sick and wounded is excellent, 
trained nurses accompany each train, and the medical 
arrangements are controlled by three doctors, generally 
a regular army medical officer in charge and with two 
temporary lieutenants or civil surgeons to assist him 
to do the actual professional work. No surgical or 
medical work worth mentioning is done on hospital 



140 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

trains ; they are simply means to an end — the end is 
the Base Hospital. 

The Base Hospitals in France are well-run units also. 
There are here big medical and nursing staffs, a large 
number of orderlies, and any amount of equipment. 
I was for some time Surgical Specialist at No. 6 General 
Hospital at Rouen, and this hospital was splendidly 
administered by the commanding officer, Lieutenant- 
Colonel . In the Base Hospitals there are good 

operating rooms, and in fact every modern appliance 
that one could desire. It is a pity that the same care 
in administration and equipment had not been carried 
farther up and nearer our soldiers at the front. 



CHAP TEE XIII. 
GOOD-BYE TO THE AISNE. 

Early in October, and at night, the Ambulance again 
took the road — we turned our back on the Aisne and with 
the 2nd Army Corps began the famous move across 
the French lines of communication to the Belgian 
frontier and into Flanders. This change of position 
will be written up in the future as one of the most 
masterly episodes of the war. It was a formidable 
task to move the British Army and its supplies across 
the French lines and bring them into an entirely new 
position on the front. It had to be carried out with 
the utmost secrecy. None of us knew where we were 
going. Each day the secret orders were issued and the 
various brigades and columns carried out the indicated 
programme, while the French took up our positions 
and trenches as we retired from them. This was done 
also with great secrecy. I can imagine the perturbation 
of the Saxons and Wurtemburgers on our front on 
seeing French kepis and uniforms where for weeks they 
had seen the khaki. The 2nd Corps moved off first. 
The 1st Corps left a week later. 

On the first night we marched through Nampteuil 
and reached Droszy about midnight. It was a beautiful 



142 A SUKGEON IN KHAKI 

starlight night with a biting frost. We billeted in a 
spacious chateau, with plenty of cover for the ambulance 
waggons and with stables for the horses. The men slept 
in stable lofts and the officers on the floor of the marble 
hall. The hall was a beautiful room, containing some 
valuable old furniture. The walls were covered with 
relics of the chase of the days of Louis xiv., and old 
hunting horns, knives, and boar spears. Part of the 
chateau was modern, and part consisting of a wonderful 
old tower, loopholed for arrows, was evidently all that 
was left of the keep of a strong feudal castle. The 
proprietor was an old rear-admiral of the French Navy 
and he received us with the greatest courtesy ; the 
Norfolks arrived an hour after us and quartered in 
a big house and yard close by. Our brigadier, Count 
Gleichen, arrived early in the morning and slept in our 
chateau. 

A Taube was seen approaching in the morning and 
every one was ordered to get under cover or stand stock- 
still. This Taube was evidently trying to find out 
the reason for the absence of British in the old trenches 
and the presence of the French in their place. We 
surmised correctly that the Teutonic curiosity was 
considerably aroused. A few hours afterwards another 
Taube appeared — or it may have been our first visitor — 
and flying very fast, for a French airman was in hot 
pursuit. Both soon disappeared into the upper blue, 
but we laid our odds on the Frenchman. 

At 6.30 that night we again got under way and had 
a magnificent night march to Longpont, arriving there at 




CHATEAU OK LONGPONT. 



h. 



%'■ .-*?--—-# 




1 




!» " > « ' 




Village of Loxgpont. 



GOOD-BYE TO THE AISNE 143 

10.30 p.m. Longpont is a wonderful old place. The 
Chateau Longpont dates back to very early times 
and contains some marvellous old tapestry. It is the 

home of the Comte and Comtesse M , and they 

were in residence at this time and entertained as 
their guests on this day General Sir Charles Ferguson 
and his staff. Sir Charles was the Commander of the 
5th Division of the 2nd Army Corps. The Comte and 
Comtesse had as guests, some weeks previously, General 
von Kluck, Commander of the right wing of the German 
Army, and had some interesting anecdotes to tell of this 
hard-fighting General and his staff. 

Abutting on the chateau were the famous ruins of 
the abbey of Longpont. The remains of the old 
abbey are so historic that they are known in France as 
" Les Kuines." It was built by the Cistercian monks 
in the twelfth century, and in the adjoining priory over 
three hundred monks were accommodated in the days 
when the Church was omnipotent in France. During 
the Eeign of Terror the beautiful old abbey was 
destroyed by the revolutionaries, but the massive 
character of the pillars and walls proved too much 
even for these iconoclasts, and stand to-day, clothed 
in ivy and moss, the monuments of a glorious past. 
The venerable and stately majesty of these ruins, where 
every stone seemed to speak of the grandeur of other 
days, impressed the imagination of all who gazed upon 
them. 

The day following our arrival at Longpont was a 
Sunday. Divine service was conducted at 10 a.m. 



144 A SUKGEON IN KHAKI 

round the old broken altar by our Church of England 
chaplain, and Sir Charles Ferguson, the Divisional 
General, read the lessons. Monsignor conducted the 
Catholic service at 11.30. Both services were largely- 
attended by our own men and by French soldiers 
occupying the village. In imagination one could see 
the princely abbots and the cowled monks who, during 
a period of six hundred years, had chanted their 
litanies and passed in procession inside the beautiful 
abbey, gazing wonderingly at the simple military 
services held round the tumbled masonry of the ancient 
altar. 

After the services we spent the day wandering 
through the old-fashioned village of Longpont, examin- 
ing its ancient gateways adorned with the crests of the 
kings of France, or strolling through the fine woods 
bordering the lake. Heavy artillery fire from the 
French batteries could be heard all the day. We 
were now right behind the French lines. 

I cannot pass from Longpont without describing 
our sleeping quarters on the night of our arrival. The 
officers of the ambulance had to sleep on the straw 
of an old stone stable. The stable looked comfortable 
and inviting, and it was not till we had crawled into 
our valises that the " fun " commenced. We had just 
lain down and blown out the candles when we felt 
curious obscure movements under our valises. Then 
a rustling of straw and a scampering of some objects 
over our beds. One doctor at once yelled out, " Good 
Lord, the place is full of rats." He turned on his 



GOOD-BYE TO THE AISNE 145 

electric torch and immediately there was a wild scurry 
and stampede to cover of hundreds of rats. The torch 
was turned off, and after a little while the scampering 
and squeaking started again. The rats were either 
enjoying a game or were upset by our occupation of 
their stable. At one end of the stable was a feeding 
trough, and sitting in a row on the edge of the trough 
were innumerable rats. Conspicuous amongst them 
was one enormous fellow, about the size of a cat — 
some one said he was as big as a calf — with huge grey 
moustaches and very knowing eyes. This was un- 
doubtedly the leader. We christened him Von Hinden- 
berg. Somebody threw a bottle at him, but the cunning 
old rascal dodged it by making a tremendous leap 
into the middle of the stable and disappeared. One 
young doctor then said that he would rather sleep out 
in the open than amongst the rats, and he carried 
his valise outside. The rest of us decided to stop where 
we were, but we all pulled our blankets well over our 
heads. Our childhood horror of rats still remained, 
and we were just a little bit afraid of them — especially 
of Von Hindenberg. 

From Longpont we had a hard gruelling march of 
fifteen to eighteen miles through the night, and arrived 
at Lieux Ristaures at 6 a.m. We were stopped a 
long time on the road at the little village of Corey by 
hundreds of motor vans, waggons, and buses containing 
French troops. We realised on this night what 
| crossing a line of communication " actually means. 
The French were hurrying up heavy reinforcements to 

10 



146 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

strengthen a part of their front which at that moment 
was withstanding a most resolute German attack, our 
Brigade was moving as quickly as possible to another 
point of the front. The roads of the two armies crossed 
at Corey, and of course one had to wait till the way 
was clear. It all looked very confusing and chaotic, 
but it was really very cleverly managed. Our road 
at first led through a forest, and anyone who knows 
the forests of France knows the beauty and charm of 
the tall trees. Little could be seen, however ; high 
overhead one could make out a few stars, but the track 
itself was in Cimmerian darkness. About 2 a.m. we 
reached Villars Cotterets and marched through the old 
cobbled streets without a pause. This old town looked 
interesting, and one would have liked to have explored 
the birthplace of Dumas. After Villars Cotterets our 
road lay through more open country and a grey dawn 
made things clearer. We were all dog-tired with the 
long march and the constant halts ; marching at night 
was more monotonous and fatiguing than day marching. 
On the way from Villars Cotterets to our next 
bivouac, Lieux Ristaures, at night time, when we were 
all feeling very done up, a most surprising rumour 
reached us. Far ahead on the long column we 
suddenly heard distant cheering which grew in intensity 
as it travelled quickly down to us preceded by a 
message shouted from one to another, " The Kaiser is 
dead. Killed yesterday morning. Pass it on." When 
the message reached us we laughed, and did not pass I 
it on. Cries came out of the darkness in front, " Pass I 



GOOD-BYE TO THE AISNE 147 

the message on. It's official. The Kaiser's dead." 
So we passed it on, and the cheering travelled back 
across country to the marching men far behind. It 
cheered the men up wonderfully ; they were delighted. 
It of course turned out to be a fake, cleverly engineered 
by some wags at the head of the column. Of rumours 
there was no end. The Crown Prince had been buried 
in Flanders, in the Argonne, at Soissons. But he 
always got out of his grave. We buried Von Kluck, 
Hindenburg, and Bulow, and each burial was related 
with a wealth of detail that left nothing to the imagina- 
tion. The most accepted rumour of all, and one which 
is still believed by many, was the harrowing story of the 
Prince with the velvet mask. This story had a dis- 
tinctly Dumas flavour, and it had a great vogue. It 
was related to me first on the Aisne by a doctor in a 
Scottish regiment, who had had it from the Colonel, who 
had received it from somebody higher up. I, of course, 
passed it on lower down the social scale, and our 
Division knew it that afternoon. The Crown Prince at 
this time was said to be living in a richly furnished 
cave opposite Reims. On dull days he would sit on a 
chair outside and order the shelling of Reims Cathedral, 
while he gazed through a powerful glass at the falling 
masonry. One day the Prussian Nero was missing 
from his cave, and the story then shifts to Strasburg, 
whither in the dead of night a wounded officer of 
apparently august rank was conveyed in a motor-car. 
Two powerful Limousines accompanied this car, one 
before and one behind, and these were full of highly 



148 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

placed army officers. A special train with steam up 
was awaiting the arrival of the cars, and as the wounded 
officer was carried across the platform on a stretcher, 
closely surrounded by Generals, it was noticed that 
a velvet mask covered his face. The mask fell off 
as the body was lifted into the train and the Crown 
Prince's face was exposed to view. I believe that this 
story was afterwards circulated in the French press. 
We certainly did not hear of His Imperial Highness for 
many months afterwards. 

Another rumour circumstantially related by a 
field chaplain and duly passed on with the imprimatur 
of the Church, was that Prince Albrecht of Prussia, 
son of the War Lord himself, had been wounded and 
taken prisoner into Antwerp by the Belgians. He 
was operated upon by Belgian surgeons in the presence 
of two German medical officers, and a bullet was ex- 
tracted from his spine. The bullet was a Mauser — a 
German one. The Prince died and his body was 
handed back to the Germans. 

On the way to our next bivouac we also heard that 
Arras was being bombarded by the Germans and that 
they were investing Antwerp. We had quite a lot of 
war news to discuss for the remainder of our road, and 
until we pulled our waggons under the trees round an 
old mill at Lieux Ristaures. The men were billeted 
in outhouses and wood sheds belonging to the mill, and 
the officers were cordially welcomed by the hospitable 
miller and his kind-hearted womenfolk. They prepared 
coffee, bread and butter, and eggs for us, and we had the 



GOOD-BYE TO THE AISNE 149 

use of two bedrooms and a small office. A rapid mill 
race ran through the garden and under the kitchen 
floor of the house to the orchard beyond. When the 
miller's wife wanted fresh water, all she had to do was 
to lift up a trap on the kitchen floor and dip the bucket 
into the tumbling water below. Lieux Eistaures has 
a fine old ruined church all to itself, but it is disfigured 
by some modern attempts to restore it to its ancient 
grandeur, and these attempts have spoiled completely 
the beauty of the ruins. At Lieux I received my first 
mail since leaving England. It was now October, 
and I had left England in August. This will give an 
idea of the marvellous work of our Army Post Office, 
but as no department has received such abuse as this 
one, I will spare its feelings and say no more. 

A fine contingent of French cavalry passed by 
on this day. The men and horses looked splendid. 
The brass helmets, plumes, and cuirasses caught the 
sun's rays, and we described the passing as a " gorgeous 
cavalcade." The helmets and cuirasses, however, seem 
to belong to old-world armies, and look stagey amongst 
the simpler uniforms of this age. 

We stopped two nights at the quaint old farm of 
Lieux with its rushing mill race, and at three o'clock 
on the second day marched to Bethisy St. Martin, where 
we had an excellent tea at a cosy house in the town 
— butter, eggs, bread, cold beef, and pickles. We sat 
round a table with a tablecloth ! our first since 
August. The good woman who prepared the meal 
made us very welcome. We slept on the floor of the 



150 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

Mairie in the centre of the town till 5 a.m., when we 
again took the road to Santines and Verberie, passing 
near Senlis. Verberie showed many evidences of the 
Prussian sign manual — shelled houses and smashed 
walls. We reached the river Oise at 10 a.m. and 
crossed by a pontoon bridge, as the fine old stone bridge 
had been blown up ; marched through Rivecourt and 
bivouacked for three hours by the wayside. It was a 
glorious morning, the going was good, and everybody 
was cheerful and looked very hard and fit. At Halte 
de Meux, where was a railway siding with troop trains, 
we received orders to embark on one of the trains for a 
destination unknown. 

The train by which we were to travel had to carry 
the Norfolk Regiment also. When the Norfolks were 
all on board we found that there was not room enough 
left for the Field Ambulance, with its ambulance 
waggons, supply waggons, horses, and men. C sec- 
tion, with its waggons and equipment, had to be left 
behind, and get on as best it could by some other train ; 
so we of C section took the road to Compiegne. 
We reached this charming and historic city in the dark, 
and found that there was no train for us. We crossed 
the Oise again on a bridge of moored barges, as the 
magnificent stone bridge spanning the Oise here was 
in ruins, destroyed by the French during the German 
advance. The night was desperately cold ; we slept, 
or tried to sleep, on the boulevard alongside the river 
bank, but had to get up and march about to keep up 
the circulation. The men lit a fire under the trees of 



GOOD-BYE TO THE AISNE 151 

the boulevard and sat round it all night. There was 
no reason really why we should have slept out on the 
open boulevard, for there was a large, half-empty 
infantry barracks about 20 yards away and the French 
offered us the use of it for the night. Our commanding 
officer, however, decided otherwise, and consequently 
we passed a most miserable night. 

Compiegne, situated on the Oise, is one of the most 
charming and fascinating cities in France. In the 
palace, Napoleon Bonaparte and the Empress Marie 
Louise, Louis Philippe, and Napoleon in. frequently 
resided. The tower where Joan of Arc was imprisoned, 
the sixteenth-century Hotel de Ville with its belfry 
tower, and the old church of St. Jacques well repay a 
visit. The city appeared on the surface to be leading 
a normal life except for the large number of French 
soldiers and the many Red Cross Hospitals. Compiegne 
was at this time a favourite afternoon call for the 
Taubes, and they frequently dropped bombs, meant no 
doubt for the old palace. Old historic chateaux, 
cathedrals, and churches have a strange fascination for 
German artillerists and bomb-droppers. 

I must now relate an episode of some interest that 
occurred on the march up to Compiegne — nothing 
less than seeing General Jofrre, the Commander-in-Chief 
of the Allied Armies. I had dropped behind from my 
ambulance, and had given my horse to my groom to 
lead behind my section on the march. A marching 
regiment was coming up behind us, and as I knew the 
doctor I waited till the regiment came up, and then 



152 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

joined in and walked alongside my medical friend. 
A large chateau was situated on the side of the road 
some distance on, and as we came up we saw a large 
group of French officers standing at the old gateway. 
A whisper travelled rapidly down the line that this 
was the French Headquarters Staff and that Joffre 
himself was there. At once the subalterns " tightened 
up " the marching men, heads were lifted, shoulders 
squared, the step became smarter and rhythmic. Low 
muttered commands snapped out : " Smartly there," 
" By your right/' " Keep your distance, men." As we 
came abreast of the group at the gateway, the sharp, 
clear command rang out from each platoon officer, 
" Eyes right ! " the officers saluted smartly, and with a 
parade swing the fine regiment marched past. I gazed 
long and interestedly at the officer at the gateway who 
took our salute. He was easily distinguishable as 
Jonre, for he was exactly like the pictures seen of him 
in every shop window in France, or rather the pictures 
were faithful representations of Joffre. When I got 
past, I stepped out of the company I was marching with 
on to the far side of the road, and while the remainder 
of the regiment was still passing by I had a good long 
look at the man who means so much to France, and in 
whom France is so sublimely confident. He was 
dressed in a well-fitting but easy blue tunic, with stars 
on the sleeves near the curl indicating his rank of 
General, and with a gold band on the shoulders, the 
familiar red French trousers, and black polished cavalry 
jack-boots. On his head he had a gold-braided kepi. 



GOOD-BYE TO THE AISNE 153 

Joffre is of middle height, strong and sturdily made, 
broad-shouldered and with a figure stout and heavy. 
His face is full, genial, and attractive, browned like the 
faces of men who have lived and worked in the tropics, 
and with a white moustache which gave a somewhat 
benevolent air. He was evidently interested in the 
march past of our regiment, for he walked three or four 
paces forward from his staff and towards us, and seemed 
to take in all the details of men and equipment as his 
eye scanned up and down. His salute was given with 
the careful exactness and ceremony always bestowed 
by the French upon this act, which the British officer 
goes through so casually. 

Joffre did not look the dazzling military leader 
of romance, but he looked very business-like. Here 
was not the lean figure and the hawk nose of a 
Wellington, the glittering swagger of a Murat, or the 
inscrutable pose of the little Grey Man of Destiny. 
Yet this broad, homely, comfortable, and democratic 
figure standing by the roadside and carefully observing 
us, is the most powerful man in France to-day — the 
man against whom no political criticism is levelled, 
the idol of the soldiers, and in whom the people of 
France have such a simple faith. He is called " Our 
Joffre, " and the possessive phrase indicates the pride 
the people and army feel in him. The French will 
tell the following story, which has gone the rounds, 
with great gusto. After a big battle in Poland, Von 
Hindenberg's Chief of Staff contracted a " political 
illness " and was sent to Berlin to recover his health. 



154 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

The Kaiser wired to Hindenberg, " Whom do you 
nominate for your new Chief of Staff ? " The reply 
came back, " Would like Joffre." 

French officers at the front will tell you that Joffre 
is an Aristides the Just ; that he ordered the shooting 
of four French Generals early in the war because they 
were traitors to France, and that he has " retired " 
all the old Generals who are slow to think and too fond 
of cocktails to be good campaigners ; that he speedily 
rewards ability and initiative by promotions on the 
field, and is merciless on an officer — no matter of what 
rank — who shows incompetence. 

Joffre was met early in the War of the Trenches 
by an old friend, who greeted him with, " Well, how are 
things going ? " The General's eyes twinkled humor- 
ously as he replied, " Laissez-moi faire, je les grignotte " 
(" Leave me alone, I am nibbling them "). A French 
surgeon who knows Joffre, told me that he is a good 
sleeper, and that during the worst days he never missed 
one night's sleep. It was Shakespeare's Csesar who 
said, I think, to Mark Antony : 

" Let me have men about me that are fat, 
Sleek-headed men and such as sleep o' nights." 

Joffre has never interested himself in politics, and 
he is one of the few great Frenchmen who have avoided 
the glamour of the political stage on which so many 
ephemeral reputations have been made and so many 
good ones blasted. Joffre, like most men who " do " 
things, is a silent man. I am glad that I have seen 
" Joffre le taciturne," and been privileged to salute him. 



GOOD-BYE TO THE AISNE 155 

Joffre and French are both over sixty years of age. 
Pau, the one-armed French General, known as the 
" Thrust er," is a veteran of the War of 1870. Gallieni, 
the " rock of Paris/' the General destined to hold Paris 
when Von Kluck was bearing so hastily down on the 
capital, is an old man. Von Hindenberg, the pride of 
Germany, is sixty-seven. Von Kluck, the Commander 
of the right wing of the German Army, who so furiously 
hacked his way almost to the gates of Paris, and was 
rolled back in a crushing defeat, is over seventy years 
of age. Napoleon and Wellington were forty-six at 
Waterloo. Nelson died at forty-seven. Ney was 
thirty-five when he was shot. Von Boon, the German 
Minister of War in the Franco-Prussian War, was 
sixty-seven when the campaign began. Bismarck was 
then about fifty-five, and Von Moltke was an old man — 
a septuagenarian. Are we too old at forty ? No. I 
knew a chaplain at the front who was fifty-eight years 
of age. In times of peace he took very little physical 
exercise ; he was a student, a scholar, and an author. 
I have seen this chaplain march mile after mile in rain 
and mud, and under a broiling sun on dusty roads, and 
he was then fitter than he ever had been before, and 
could eat bully beef and hard biscuits like the hungriest 
youngster. He had the face and eyes and voice of a 
young man, and he laughed like a merry boy. 

We left Compiegne at 3 p.m. ; our horses and 
waggons were entrained and officers and men got into 
an old and evil-looking " 100th " class carriage and 
again set off for a destination unknown. No one 



156 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

seemed to know where we were off to, but the entraining 
and route were really well carried out by the staff of 
the railway. At Amiens we received orders to get off 
at Abbeville, and after a tiring journey we reached 
the mouth of the Somme at 2 a.m. The waggons and 
horses were quickly taken out, and in the dark we 
trekked through Abbeville across open country to 
Gapennes, nine miles away. Here we met the 13th 
Field Ambulance, temporarily quartered in a most 
luxurious chateau. Our little party was dead beat 
for want of sleep, and some of us lay down on the floor 
of the village schoolhouse and slept heavily for three 
hours. The school was not " in " that day, otherwise 
I am sure the children would have been highly enter- 
tained to see three weary doctors in khaki soundly 
slumbering on the floor. 

Still sleepy, we again had to take the road and tramp 
the weary miles. A large number of French ambulances 
passed us going back to Abbeville, and we heard that 
there had been some very hard fighting on the French 
left wing. 

The 13th British Infantry Brigade caught up with 
us, and we pulled aside to let them pass. The officers 
told us that they were in a hurry — that the French 
had moved up a lot of troops to the south of Lille and 
that the whole British Army was to form up on the left 
of the French, and that terrific fighting was going on 
round Lille and Arras, and French and German cavalry 
screens had met farther west. 

At 5 p.m. we found the headquarters of our am- 




COMPIEGNE, SHOWING THE BROKEN BRIDGE. 




Ambulance crossing the Oise on a Pontoon bridge. 



GOOD-BYE TO THE AISNE 157 

bulance located in a pig-sty of a farmhouse and were 
told that it was to move off shortly and march through 
the night. All the romance of night marching had gone 
for us, and we wanted to sleep. We were tired of walk- 
ing, tired of everything, tired of the war, and vaguely 
wondered why we had been so foolish as to leave 
England. 

So at nine o'clock on the same evening off we marched 
again into the outer darkness of a depressing, gloomy 
night, and we were on our feet through the whole of it. 
Most of the time we were standing by the roadside 
waiting for the congestion of the long columns in front 
to ease off. Sometimes we would sit in a ditch by the 
roadside and go off to sleep, only to be wakened a minute 
after by the cry, " Forward ! " 

About 6 a.m. we reached Croisette. The name 
sounds attractive, but it really was a mean-looking 
farmhouse at a cross-road ; however, we got a very good 
breakfast of coffee, bread and fresh butter, and eggs. 
The farmer's wife was anxious to know how the war 
was going on. She rarely got news, but heard lots of 
rumours. Everybody appeared to be hearing rumours 
as well as the British Army. We told her that we 
had killed thousands of Germans and were on the way 
to slaughter those that were still left ; and as this 
appealed to the patriotic instincts of the farm lady, 
she was very satisfied with our latest war bulletin. 

In three nights and three days I had had only three 
hours' sleep, and had got to a stage when I marched, 
rode, and ate my food in a sort of subconscious state of 



158 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

reflex animation. In the late afternoon we rumbled 
into Thielyce, and tried fruitlessly to find some billets 
for our officers and men. The place was full of small 
cottages, and the cottagers eagerly offered each to take 
in one or two men; but we could not allow this, as 
in the event of sudden orders through the night we 
might not be able to get all our men together. We 
always lived in one large party or habitation like gipsies. 
One old woman of the village was extremely anxious 
to have some khaki soldiers stop at her house. She 
was curious to observe the English at close quarters, 
as she had never seen one before and had heard that 
they were such terrible fighting men. Our looks belied 
our reputation; we looked harmless, very dirty and 
dusty, but very tame. 

The ambulance was parked in a field off the village 
street and inside a delightful clump of trees. Too tired 
to eat, I lay down as I was, armed cap-a-pie, at the 
foot of a tall umbrageous tree and slept a dreamless sleep. 

At five o'clock next morning the sharp call of our 
O.C., " Field Ambulance, turn out ! " aroused me 
again to a world of marching men and war ; but I was 
my own man again and optimistic, and no longer 
wondered why I had left England. 

We had a picnic breakfast sitting on the grass in 
the field, and at seven o'clock received orders to move 
off : we were to follow the 13th and 14th Brigades into 
Bethune and on to La Bassee, and be prepared for big 
casualties, as a stern battle was expected and the 
two brigades would probably be in action before mid- 



GOOD-BYE TO THE AISNE 159 

day. There was a feeling of expectancy in the air 
that morning. All the rumours about a big battle 
and all our quick movements and marchings by night 
seemed to presage a clash at arms. We hoped for 
old England's sake that we would do well ; our pulses 
were stirred and we were all very much alive. 

We moved off smartly down a fine old tree-lined road 
towards the sound of heavy guns which had been in 
action from daybreak. On our way we passed thou- 
sands of hurrying refugees going towards St. Pol. 
Without stopping, our ambulances growled their way 
through the ancient cobble-stoned town on to the 
big high road leading to Bethune. Here again we 
met thousands of refugees, nearly all young men of 
military age. We were curious to know why these 
men were not in the French Army, and a French officer 
told us that they belonged to Lille and the surrounding 
districts, and had been ordered out by the French 
authorities to report at military depots farther south 
for training and active service. These " mobilisables " 
would have been good captures for the Germans and a 
considerable loss to the French Army. Amongst them 
I counted twenty-seven priests in black caps and 
cassocks; they, too, were on their way to shoulder a 
French rifle. One young man I noticed carrying a 
white rabbit in a bird-cage in one hand and a bundle of 
clothes and boots in the other ; he was saving his 
rabbit from a German pie. Another fellow was walking 
along the road in carpet slippers and with a pair of 
heavy boots suspended round his neck. 



160 A SUKGEON IN KHAKI 

The poor refugees looked tired, disappointed, and 
depressed, and no wonder. It is hard suddenly to 
have to leave your home, your friends, your wife and 
children, and to go away with a gnawing fear that 
they will be in the power of an arrogant and brutal 
enemy who knows no mercy. We pitied them all. 

After all, there was no battle that day. We halted 
on the way some time, and then were rapidly marched 
forward towards Bethune. We were now passing 
through coal-mining towns and villages, and they 
recalled very much the villages and houses round coal 
areas of Scotland like Falkirk. The type of coal-miner 
and the coal-miner's cottage are very much the same 
all over the world. These people did not seem very 
curious or interested in our passage through their 
villages or towns — simply gave us a glance at 
passing. 

That night we bivouacked in a chateau near 
Bethune and on the main road. We could not get any 
farther forward, for the road in front was blocked up 
by big guns and little guns, ammunition columns, 
engineer battalions, and infantry. We saw a number 
of waggons loaded up with big pontoon boats, and 
speculated that we must be near water. So we were. 
We were near the famous canal, but the boats were 
intended for farther west. 

After tea in the kitchen of the big chateau, some 
of us got on our horses and rode into the city of Bethune, 
now full of troops, and the bustle of warlike preparations. 
There were all nationalities in the streets of Bethune 



GOOD-BYE TO THE AISNE 161 

that night. Arabs in flowing robes were on horseback 
in the square, looking strangely out of place in this 
old western city. Spahis, French Grenadiers, French 
gunners, Alpine Chasseurs in round cloth caps, Belgian, 
French, and British officers, and, of course, Mr. Thomas 
Atkins, quite at home, smoking a Woodbine cigarette 
and being petted and openly admired by the women 
and the girls. We heard here that Antwerp had 
fallen, and thought the news very serious. It was 
quite unexpected, as we had not known that it had 
been strongly besieged. 

At five o'clock next morning we were on the road 
in a dense fog, and after going forward about half a 
mile were told to bivouac in a field near the road 
till some ammunition columns and guns got past us. 
This we did, but Monsignor wandered off alone farther 
down the road. We missed him for a long time, and 
when he did turn up he told us that he had been 
arrested as a spy by the French. Two or three French 
sentries with fixed bayonets surrounded him, and I 
don't know what arguments Monsignor used to con- 
vince them that he was an Englishman. But he came 
back smiling, and was evidently much tickled over the 
whole affair. He was the only officer in the British 
Army, and in fact the only member of the Expeditionary 
Force, who was not in khaki uniform, and it is no wonder 
that the French thought it odd that he should be 
strolling about " on his own/' looking at British guns 
and equipment. We were all delighted, of course, at 

Monsignor's arrest, and regretted that we had not been 
ii 



162 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

there with our cameras. We were quite determined, 
if he were again arrested, to disown all knowledge of 
him, just to see what the French would do next. 

After some hours' wait in the field we pushed on again 
through Bethune towards the canal. This canal was to 
us then simply a canal and nothing more, but along this 
belt of slowly flowing water was to be waged very soon 
one of the most terrific and sanguinary struggles recorded 
in history. 

As we approached the canal the Norfolk Regiment 
came up, and we drew to the side of the road to give 
them the right of way. I sat on a heap of stones by the 
roadside and watched this fine regiment marching 
smartly past, and I remember thinking curiously that 
probably that same day, perhaps within a few hours, 
many of these fine fellows would have fallen and many 
would be maimed. 

It is an impressive thing to see a regiment going 
into action. The Norfolks knew that they would very 
soon be in the thick of things, as they were marching 
on the sound of the heavy guns, but they looked perfectly 
cheerful and unconcerned. That night several of them 
passed under my hands on the operating table, and many 
more were lying very still on the wet earth not far away. 

The King's Own Scottish Borderers passed us earlier 

in the morning, and with them was Dr. D as 

regimental surgeon. D was one of the first medical 

officers over the Aisne, and he put through some splendid 
service for the wounded under a heavy fire, and was 
mentioned in dispatches. Four days afterwards poor 



GOOD-BYE TO THE AISNE 163 

D and his stretcher-bearers were captured and sent 

as prisoners to Germany. 

At 11 a.m. we crossed the narrow bridge spanning 
the now famous canal leading up towards La Bassee, 
and installed our ambulance headquarters in the Chateau 
Gorre on the road to Festubert. The chateau had up 
till that day been the headquarters of a French cavalry 
general, and it was a most palatially fitted-up place. 

Our long journey was over. We had left the Aisne 
and taken up a new position near La Bassee in the north 
of France. We were now in a countryside destined 
soon to become the theatre of an intense and sanguinary 
struggle. It was here that our men withstood the shock 
of the most determined and relentless head-on attacks 
of the enemy. This was one of the roads to Calais, and 
we held the gate. 



CHAPTEK XIV. 

THE LA BASS^E KOAD AT CHATEAU GORRE. 

As the fighting is still going on round this district any 
description of military positions or dispositions would be 
quite out of place. 

Our headquarters at Chateau Gorre was a beautiful 
two-storied stone building, quite modern, and well 
arranged in every way with spacious lofty halls, dining- 
rooms, lounges, bedrooms, and bathrooms. 

When we took up our quarters here we knew that we 
would soon be busy with wounded, and the central 
hall of the chateau was at once prepared for their re- 
ception. Two larger rooms opening to the right and to 
the left off the hall were covered with mattresses and 
blankets, hot water was prepared, operation table 
opened out, and towels and instruments made ready. 
Just when we had about finished preparations our first 
arrivals, four men of the Dragoon Guards, turned up. 
They had been wounded slightly in the arms and face 
while advancing along the road towards Festubert. 
Twenty minutes later fifty-four wounded arrived, 
Bedfords and Cheshires, most of whom had slight 
wounds of the arms and hands and scalp, and were able 
to walk. 

164 



THE LA BASS^E ROAD 165 

Urgent orders came in to send six ambulance 
waggons down the Festubert road. These were sent 
forward with stretcher parties and six medical officers. 
This was the beginning of a very " bloody " night. All 
that evening and all night wounded were continually 
coming in. I was on duty in the chateau as surgeon 
till 4 a.m., when another medical officer relieved me. 
Red Cross ambulances were driven up frequently and 
took away all our lightly wounded and those fit to travel- 
These were sent to Bethune, and thus the chateau was 
kept from becoming too congested. These Red Cross 
ambulances had been provided and equipped by British 
residents in Paris ; they were splendidly handled, 
and proved a godsend to us. Many of them were 
converted " Ford cars," and could carry six lying-down 
patients and one sitting up beside the driver. The 
stretchers were swung on trestles and chains, and fitted 
easily. Our ambulance waggons and stretcher-bearers 
were out all night and had a very dangerous time at the 
front. At 10.30 next morning the heavy artillery firing 
eased off, and at eleven o'clock occurred one of those 
extraordinary lulls when all the big guns and little guns 
cease firing and everything seems strangely silent. 

A chaplain arrived at the chateau in the morning 
and read the service over one of our wounded who had 
died during the night from a broken spine. The grave 
was dug near the flower garden at the foot of the lawn, 
and many graves were dug there in the three succeeding 
terrible weeks of fierce, bitter fighting. On this day the 
Porsets, who were in reserve and quartered near the gate 



166 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

of our chateau, went into action and were badly handled 
by the Germans, suffering severe losses, chiefly from a 
concealed German machine-gun opening on to them 
from near the canal. The Devons had to move up 
later to support the Dorsets, and did it in a most gallant 
style. About two o'clock in the afternoon we had a 
great number of casualties ; our waggons were constantly 
arriving, unloading their wounded, and setting off again 
for the front. 

The Red Cross ambulances were evacuating the light 
cases as speedily as possible to Bethune, but we very 
soon had all our rooms full of wounded men and were 
working at high pressure at the operation table. At 
three o'clock the artillery firing was tremendously heavy, 
and every gun was in action. The chateau shook with 
the explosions ; every window rattled and some were 
broken. The concussion of the air outside and the 
terrible din were distinctly unpleasant. Then the 
cracking of the rifle-firing became audible, and reports 
came in that our men were retiring. Shortly after 
an imperative order was sent to our O.C. telling him to 
evacuate the chateau at once with his wounded and 
move off the Field Ambulance to the other side of the 
canal. The horses were at once put in the various supply 
waggons. We had only two ambulance waggons at the 
time, as the rest were at the front collecting wounded. 
Some Red Cross ambulances, however, turned up and 
took away twelve of our most serious cases. All the 
lightly wounded were sent under charge of R.A.M.C. 
orderlies to walk back across the canal to Bethune, 



THE LA BASS^E ROAD 167 

Some men with shrapnel wounds of thigh and leg also 
had to walk and get along somehow, and miserable and 
pitiable these poor fellows looked, limping and struggling 
along the muddy road in their bloody bandages. Things 
looked pretty serious at this moment, and I was ordered 
to mount and gallop ahead to direct the waggons on to 
the right road and to " round up " our poor wounded 
fellows who were trudging along the roads. To make 
matters worse, heavy rain came on. Big artillery 
practice always brought down the rain. I soon reached 
the head of our column and gave the sergeant the 
necessary instructions. 

On the side of the road there was an old inn or 
estaminet. I pulled my horse up here and put two 
men on duty to stop all our walking wounded and 
collect them into the front room of the inn. I went 
inside and arranged with the woman in charge to light 
a big fire, make some tea, and have bread and butter 
and anything else she could get ready for our men, and 
to do it quickly. She set to work at once. I had then 
to gallop back to the Chateau Gorre to help get away 
the serious cases and to collect any empty lorry or 
waggon I could get. When I reached the chateau the 
O.C. told me that we had moved up some reserves, 
and the Germans in their turn were now retiring. He 
said that he would now keep his serious cases at the 
chateau till motor ambulances arrived. I was ordered 
to gallop again to the head of our column and turn 
back all the supply waggons, equipment carts, and 
water carts, but to send the ambulance waggons 



168 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

with their wounded on to Bethune. It was now dark, 
and after incredible trouble my mission was accom- 
plished and our drivers were already driving the carts 
back. I now looked in at " mine inn." All our wounded 
fellows were sitting round the fire having tea, 
bread and butter, and slices of cold boiled ham, and 
looked very happy. I asked the woman of the inn 
what the cost was, and she only charged me ten francs. 
I never parted with money so willingly. The privilege 
of being able to do something for these good lads, and 
their appreciation of the hot fire and the hot tea, was 
something I would not willingly forget. 

The Chateau Gorre was once more re-established 
as an advanced ambulance dressing station, and con- 
tinued so for over three weeks. It was situated right 
inside the shell zone, and had many " alarms and 
excursions " during this period, but none quite so 
dramatic and sensational as that recorded above. The 
work done by this ambulance at the chateau was 
extraordinarily good and useful, and owing to ifcs very 
advanced position so close to the fighting line it was 
able to receive and treat the wounded very soon after 
they had been hit. 

When the order came to evacuate at the time of 
the incident related above, the instructions given to 
our Commanding Officer were to get out all the lightly 
wounded cases and to leave the serious cases in the 
chateau. Our O.C. was a soldier, and he said that if 
he had to go he would get all the wounded out, and 
that he would be " damned if he would leave any 



THE LA BASSEE ROAD 169 

seriously wounded man in the hands of the b 



Germans." Strong language at times is sweet music, 
and our O.C. was a man of his word. The wounded 
men heard this story, and I heard some of them talking 
about it later to each other. The O.C. took a high 
place in their estimation. 

At the chateau I was talking to a young lieutenant 
who had just received a commission in the D — ■ — 
Regiment. He had served as a private at the beginning 
of the war and won his sergeant's stripes for general 
good conduct and gallantry under fire, and was then 
given a commission in another regiment. He was hard 
put for a smoke, and could not get any cigarettes, but 
fortunately I was able to give him some. 

Ten days later, at Bethune, he was brought in to 
me with a crushed arm, hanging by only a thread of 
muscle to the shoulder, and I had to amputate it under 
chloroform. He recognised me as the man who had 
given him the cigarettes, and said, " Hullo, doctor, 
you're always doing me kind things, so now take my 
arm off." I was very sorry that I had to do it, but 
such is war and the aftermath of victory. 

Next day after our big alarm I was sent back by 
the Assistant Director of the Medical Service of this 
Division to take up duty at Bethune, four miles back 
from where we were, at the Chateau Gorre, and to help 
in the organisation for handling and treating our many 
wounded there. Bethune was on the other side of 
the canal to the chateau, and during the succeed- 
ing three or four weeks became a very big hospital 



170 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

centre for the British engaged in the direction of La 
Bassee. 

The Field Ambulance headquarters, with the waggons, 
still remained at the chateau closer to the firing line, 
and evacuated their many wounded as speedily as 
possible in to us at Bethune. These were strenuous 
days of hard and obstinate fighting, and the casualties 
were heavy. The life of the medical officer was at this 
place arduous and sleepless, but the motto of the Royal 
Army Medical Corps is "In arduis fidelis," which may 
be freely rendered " Always do your job." 



CHAPTER XV. 
BETHUNE, 

Bethune held a position of great importance behind our 
lines, for our wounded were evacuated thither from 
the front, and those fit to take the journey were 
then sent on by hospital trains to Boulogne and Rouen 
and then to England. This old city will be visited by 
many English after the war, for many English officers 
and men are sleeping their long sleep in the old cemetery 
and in various parts of the surrounding country. One 
day, I am sure, a monument to the memory of the brave 
dead will be raised in Bethune, and the mural inscrip- 
tion will commemorate the names of the fallen, and 
place on record for all time the kindness, the sympathy, 
and the generous hearts of the people of Bethune who 
helped us all so much during the hard days of the war. 
Owing to its many recent bombardments from 
guns and aeroplanes, and its proximity to the famous 
canal and La Bassee, Bethune has become a city of 
world-wide interest. Its population was at this time a 
cosmopolitan one. The warriors of the East were in 
friendly touch with the warriors of the West. The 
slanting, almond-eye Gurkha, the stately bearded Sikh, 
the swarthy fighting men from the frontiers and central 

¥ 171 



172 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

plains of India, the Turcos with their flowing robes, 
the dapper Spahi, the black-eyed Senegalese, the French 
Alpine Chasseur, and the splendid Cuirassier, were 
all to be seen in its streets ; and there also was Mr. 
Thomas Atkins, making himself, as usual, quite at home 
with them all, and also with the pleasant-faced smiling 
young women in the tobacconists and fruit shops. 

Bethune, with its 14,000 inhabitants, is said to be 
the home of many millionaires — those manufacturing 
and industrial magnates who control the big industries 
of this thriving and populous part of France. The 
situation of the city is not very attractive. It is sur- 
rounded by muddy, swampy country, in some places 
nothing better than marshes or bogs in winter, but it 
is supposed to be attractive in spring and summer, when 
it is " a green prairie land." 

The old square in the centre of the city has a very 
Flemish complexion, but is undoubtedly, owing to the 
irregularities in design and architecture of the surround- 
ing houses and shops, a very attractive and fascinating 
spot. On one side are two fine old fourteenth-century 
Spanish houses built for some Spanish grandees in the 
days when Spain was supreme in the Netherlands. In 
the centre of the square is an old church and a mass 
of hoary buildings forming an island, and out of this 
island group of buildings the wonderful old Belfry of 
Bethune erects itself proudly skyward. The belfry 
was built in 1346, and behind it is the venerable church 
of St. Vaast, a product of the sixteenth century, with a 
very ornate Gothic tower, 



BETHUNE 173 

Naturally the belfry and the tower of St. Vaast 
proved to be irresistibly attractive to the German 
gunners, and the batteries beyond La Bassee were 
constantly having long bowls practice at them. From 
the top of the belfry one could obtain a splendid view of 
the surrounding countryside and see the shrapnel and 
big shells burst miles away. Taubes were constantly 
flying over Bethune at this time, but later on they 
became very chary about visiting it. 

The life of the old city during the past eight months 
has been rather unhappy, and it has gone through 
some stormy periods in the past. In 1188 a devastating 
plague swept the countryside, causing thousands of 
deaths and plunging the population into an abyss of 
fear and misery. 

When the plague was at its height Saint Eloi appeared 
to two blacksmiths and recommended them to form an 
association of " charitables," charged to perform the last 
offices for the dead gratuitously and to help those in 
distress. This curious association exists to-day in 
Bethune under the name of Confreres des Charitables. 
During our stay in Bethune the charitables lived up 
to their old tradition and took the deepest interest in 
the welfare of our soldiers, made coffins for a very 
large number of our dead, and in their curious three- 
cornered " Napoleonic " hats and quaint badge and 
bands, solemnly followed the many dead to their last 
resting-place. 

Bethune has passed through many sieges in its day. 
In 1487 it was in possession of the Germans under 



174 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

Philippe of Cleves, and was captured by the French 
under Marshal d'Erquerdes at the victory called 
" Journee des Fromages," and at a later period of its 
history it was fortified by the great French engineer, 
Vauban. 

The people of Bethune opened wide their arms and 
welcomed our wounded. From the Mayor of the city to 
the humblest little shop girl these good people did all 
they could for our men, dead, wounded, or active. The 
women of the town made delicacies, soups, and special 
dishes, provided wines and more solid comforts, such 
as beds, mattresses, blankets, and sheets. Had I but 
lifted my little finger and asked for volunteer nurses, 
I could, I am sure, have obtained them in hundreds. 
Every day while I was there I received letters from 
all sorts of people offering me help and all manner of 
things for our men. On an afternoon at Bethune at 
this time it was " the thing " for ladies to visit I/Hopital 
Civil et Militaire and see the British soldiers. Our 
lightly wounded men would generally be sitting about 
on seats outside in the courtyard of the hospital sur- 
rounded by convalescent Frenchmen and crowds of 
admiring ladies, who had brought cigarettes, chocolate, 
and cakes for the soldiers of both nations. 

Although Tommy did not know a word of French 
and they knew no English, they seemed to thoroughly 
understand each other, judging by the amused faces 
of the elder French ladies and the screams of laughter 
of the younger ones. We could never quite under- 
stand how Tommy has won such an enduring place 



BETHUNE 175 

in French hearts. The French people certainly like 
Tommy. I was glad to see this everywhere in France, 
for I, too, like Tommy, although he is full of tricks. 

A section of the Field Ambulance consisting of two 
medical officers, Royal Army Medical Corps orderlies, 
waggons, cooks, and equipment had already taken 
possession of the school called I/Ecole Jules Ferry, 
and was getting it into some order so as to act as a 
Clearing Hospital, or temporary Dressing Station or 
temporary Clearing Hospital. 

We were to hold the fort till a properly equipped 
Clearing Hospital with its increased personnel and 
supplies should arrive. This did not appear for some 
days, and our Field Ambulance section had the her- 
culean task of handling all the wounded from the 
fighting front, where a bloody struggle was in progress 
round the swamps and marshy country towards La 
Bassee. I/Ecole Jules Ferry was situated down a 
side street of the old city, and near the railway station. 
It was a very large school, with several big lofty rooms, 
many small side-rooms, porches and alcoves of many 
sorts. There was a large courtyard with latrines, and 
the buildings formed a hollow square with part of 
the courtyard in the centre. The face of the buildings 
looking on to the courtyard had a long sweep of veran- 
dahs. The orderlies soon got to work, cleaned and 
swept the rooms, and covered the floor thickly with 
clean straw. No beds were then available. In a 
small side-room off a passage-way an operating table 
was fixed, and the surgical instruments and dressings 



176 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

were laid ready. Boiling water had to be carried to 
the operating room in buckets from the kitchen at 
the end of the building. The hospital was all very 
crude, but it was the best that could be done under 
the circumstances. 

We did not have to await events ; the events were 
there at once in the guise of crowds of recently wounded 
men. Motor ambulance after motor ambulance dashed 
up with its load of wounded. These were rapidly 
lifted out and carried into the building ; then away 
went the ambulance to bring in more wounded. Many 
and large as were the schoolrooms they were quickly 
filled to overflowing. The corridors and porches were 
then covered with straw, and this straw was soon 
covered with rows of wounded men. The paved 
courtyard under the verandahs was covered with 
thick straw, and again covered with wounded. Every 
foot, every inch of floor space in the buildings and 
under the verandahs was utilised. In one room we 
had closely packed rows four deep, with a narrow foot- 
way of straw down the centre of the room for the 
doctors and orderlies to pass along. So narrow was 
this track, that it required the agility of a mountain 
goat to negotiate it without bumping some poor devil's 
feet, and we walked along it just as a man walks 
across a ploughed field, stepping high and watching 
each step. Those densely packed rooms during that 
long night were a lurid and impressive picture of the 
devastation of war. As more and more wounded 
continued to arrive we had to pack our men closer 




Slightly wounded and sick at Bethune. 




Ecole Jules Ferry at Bethune. 



BETHUNE 177 

and closer together — gently push one this way, lift 
another one there, edge a third one closer still. So it 
went on. We had in our rooms a number of French 
wounded picked up and brought in by our ambulances, 
and also a fair number of German wounded. There 
is no nationality amongst the men in a hospital, and 
English, French, and German all had a little bit of floor 
space and a bit of straw in our schoolhouse that night. 
All were glad to get in out of the pouring rain, and be 
placed on the warm dry straw, and covered with a 
blanket. 

All these men arrived with the first field-dressings on. 
Some had been put on by the surgeon with the regiment, 
some by bearers and orderlies, some by Field Ambulance 
officers, and some by the man's comrades on the field. 

At first we were so busy " packing " our wounded 
that we could not investigate the nature of the wounds, 
but we were very soon under way with the professional 
side of our work. Every wound was examined; the 
slight ones were left alone, but the serious ones were 
re-dressed and a rough differentiation of serious and 
slight cases was made. Those requiring immediate 
surgery were brought into our operation room and 
anaesthetics were administered. All men in pain were 
given hypodermics of morphia, and our orderlies made 
hot drinks and soups for all those able to take nourish- 
ment. There were, of course, many men lying un- 
conscious with severe brain wounds, and most of these 
men died next day. The brain injuries were amongst 

our most hopeless cases, but fortunately these poor 
12 



178 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

fellows suffered no pain whatever, and slept stertorously 
till death. There was one particularly fine, strapping, 
young giant lieutenant of a Scotch regiment who was 
comfortably placed on straw and covered with a blanket, 
and who lay quietly sleeping, with gentle and easy 
respirations, all the night till the next forenoon, when 
he suddenly became quite still. The top of his head had 
been blown completely away. 

The crowds of wounded behaved like brave men 
and took their gruelling like good sportsmen. Next 
day the pressure was relieved by the opportune 
arrival of a hospital train, and we were enabled to 
evacuate 250 of the cases fit for transport. More doctors 
and Red Cross dressers were sent to help, and the vacant 
places of the 250 sent away were occupied by the arrival 
of another 300. 

As the pressure for beds showed no signs of easing 
off, and as the reports from the front were that the 
fighting was still violent and obstinate, a search was 
made for another building to hold more wounded. 
This was found at L'Hopital Civil et Militaire, a 
permanent hospital of the city of Bethune. It was a 
hospital of three stories, built of brick round three sides 
of a big hollow square. The fourth side was occupied by 
the porter's lodge, the two gateways, and the residential 
quarters of the Reverend Mother and Sisters of the Order 
of St. Francis, who formed the nursing staff. The 
basement wards of one wing were for French military 
patients, and the other wings were for civilian patients ; 
but as a matter of fact military wounded were put in 



BETHUNE 179 

all the wards except the midwifery ward, which was full 
of young babies and mothers. One of these young 
mothers, by the way, had just become the proud 
possessor of triplets. I had a look at them, and they 
seemed very fit . Their father had been away for the past 
three months in the trenches of the Argonne, but per- 
mission had been asked to enable him to come down 
and see how well his wife had done. 

The top story of the hospital had two large empty 
wards, each capable of holding seventy patients placed 
fairly closely together. I asked permission of the 
Reverend Mother and the hospital secretary to use 
these wards for the reception of our wounded. 

" But yes," I was eagerly told ; " you are welcome, 
and we shall do all we can for your English wounded." 
I was also offered the use of three side-rooms and part 
of another small ward for any wounded officers, and 
— greatest boon of all — the use of the two operating 
theatres of the hospital. These operating theatres 
were modern and splendidly equipped with good surgical 
iron operating tables, suitable for adjusting in any 
position, sterilisers for instruments, dressings, aprons, 
and operating towels, glass cases full of the latest 
type of instruments, and hot and cold water taps 
controlled by foot-pedals on the floor. 

The lighting was all that one could desire. My joy 
knew no bounds now, for I felt that at last I would 
be able to do good surgery and clean surgery. Up till 
now the surgery I had done on the field was crude and 
not very clean. It was absolutely impossible to be 



180 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

otherwise, for we were the victims of stern military 
circumstances. But now things would be different, 
and our wounded men and officers would get the benefit 
of surgical cleanliness. 

I asked the Reverend Mother if she would prepare 
one hundred straw mattresses for me, and get in some 
blankets. " But yes " I would get them ; and also 
Monsieur le Docteur would have tables put in the centre 
of the wards for the dressings, and would have basins 
and towels. An electrician would fix up electric lights, 
and a kitchen stove would be put in a side-room for 
cooking soup, boiling water, etc. I reported all this to 

Surgeon-General P , and that able officer quickly 

grasped the possibilities of this hospital, installed me 
there as operating surgeon, and directed that all serious 
cases requiring surgical operation should be sent to me. 
A real Clearing Hospital arrived in the town next 
morning, and next day took in patients. It established 
itself in the " College for Young Ladies," and very 
soon the spacious quarters of this big building were 
filled with wounded and sick men. For besides our 
wounded at this time we had also a large number of 
sick. This hospital also sent me any case requiring 
surgical operation. 

Work at my wards proceeded apace. The women of 
the city rushed eagerly to assist, and in a din d'ceil 
had made 180 straw mattresses, provided blankets, hot- 
water bottles, and other sick-room adjuncts. The 
position in Bethune was now as follows. One Clearing 
Hospital at the College for Young Ladies, one at the 



BETHUNE 181 

school " Jules Ferry/' and my surgical wards, only 
for serious cases, at I/Hopital Civil et Militaire. All 
three buildings were soon full, and over seven thousand 
wounded men passed through these buildings in less 
than three weeks. 

Sir Anthony Bowlby, consulting surgeon to the 
Army, constantly visited this hospital, and was always 
a welcome visitor ; and his surgical opinion was as 
welcome as his encouragement and cheeriness of 
manner. 

The operating theatre was presided over by Sister 
Ferdinande, a trained and capable nurse, with rigid 
antiseptic and aseptic principles. All I had to do was 
to tell her that I was going to amputate a limb or do a 
trephining operation, and ask her when she would be 
ready. At the agreed time everything was certain 
to be prepared, and I just had to scrub up, put on 
my sterilised apron, cap, and rubber gloves, and be 
ready for my part of the seance. The Reverend Mother 
Superior was a trained anaesthetist and administered 
chloroform to many of my cases during the three weeks 
I was there. Some days I have had her administering 
anaesthetics for seven hours. Seven hours' continuous 
administration, broken only by the taking out of one 
patient and the bringing in of another, is a big test 
of endurance for a young man; yet this old lady 
did it smilingly and well, and said it was " indeed 
nothing." 

There were two Irish nuns at this hospital ; one 
spoke French well, one was just learning, but both 



182 A SUKGEON IN KHAKI 

spoke " Irish," which is good English. These two nuns 
were put on nursing duty in my wards, and they were 
hugely delighted to get amongst the British wounded 
and to hear their countrymen talk. Tommy Atkins 
was delighted with the two Irish nuns, and told them 
some wonderful stories about the fighting and about 
the Germans. One of them asked me if I really thought 

that Private S of the Warwicks had shot two 

hundred Germans one afternoon. I told the sister that I 
did not know, but hoped he had. These two sisters were 
at work in the wards night and day. They told me one 
day that they had never heard a soldier swear. I was 
very glad to hear this, for it showed that Tommy was 
behaving himself, and I did not tell the sister that 
Tommy on occasion was a very past master in strange 
oaths. The sisters were very concerned about the lice 
on our soldiers' shirts and flannels ; and really this was a 
terrible source of anxiety to all medical officers at this 
time, for these cursed parasites would make the lot of 
our wounded men unbearable at times. One man with 
a fractured leg put up firmly in splints begged me to 
take the splints off so that he could " scratch the leg." 
I had really in the end to take off the splint, bathe the 
skin in petrol, and dust sulphur on the cotton wool, for 
lice had worked their way down into the warm wool 
next the skin, and by their " promenading " about had 
set up the irritation which the soldier begged to scratch. 
The sister once said to me that she used to think that 
the British soldiers were the most cleanly of men, but 
she found really that they were all covered with lice. 



BETHUNE 183 

I told the wondering-eyed sister that it was a regrettable 
fact, but nevertheless true, that the whole British 
Army at the front was lousy. 

When our wounded arrived at the hospital they 
were speedily placed on the straw mattresses, quickly 
undressed by the sisters and other helping nuns, and 
covered with warm sheets and blankets and surrounded 
with hot bottles. Basins of hot water and soap were 
biought round and then the men were washed and 
cleaned. Their lice-infected shirts and underclothing 
were sterilised by dry heat. 

It was the finest example of Ventente cordiale to 
see the French nuns taking off the muddy boots and 
puttees, cutting off blood-stained clothing, washing 
and cleaning the wounded, slipping on warm dry shirts, 
and tucking the blankets and pillows comfortably = 
Others appeared with hot soup, hot coffee, red wine, 
and hot gruel. These nuns were magnificent. 

I wrote to Lord Grey, late Governor-General of 
Canada, asking him to bring to the notice of Her Majesty 
Queen Alexandra the splendid work performed by 
these ladies. Lord Grey very kindly did so, and also 
sent a copy of my letter to His Majesty the King, who 
replied through Lord Stamfordham that he had read 
it with much interest. Queen Alexandra sent the 
following letter to the Reverend Mother Superior of the 
Franciscan Sisters at Bethune : 

" I have learned from Dr. Martin of your noble and 
heroic devotion for our brave and unfortunate wounded 
soldiers, and it is with a heart full of gratitude that I 



184 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

ask you to accept my most ardent and warmest 
thanks. 

" I pray God that He will reward you for the angelic 
care that you have bestowed on our unfortunate soldiers, 
and I will never forget that it is to you, madame, and 
your sisters, that they assuredly owe their life and 
their recovered health. 

" Alexandra." 

This letter was published in all the leading French 
and British papers, including the London Times, Tablet, 
Daily Mail, Figaro, Le Journal, Le Temps, in February 
1915, and excited very considerable interest and atten- 
tion in France. The Abbe Bouchon d'Homme, the 
Aumonier to the hospital, wrote me later to say that the 
Reverend Mother and the Sisters were delighted beyond 
measure at Queen Alexandra's gracious message. 

It may not be out of place now to describe briefly 
the nature of some of the wounds met with during 
the fighting at La Bassee. The non-medical mind is 
as interested in the wounds and sufferings of our men 
as are the doctors, and it is to the intelligent interest 
of the layman we owe so much of what has been done 
for our wounded and sick men. Compound fractures 
and splintered bone, septic wounds, tetanus, brain 
injuries, inoculations, etc., are words freely bandied 
about and understood by any group of ladies met 
together round an afternoon tea-table. Mrs. Smith- 
Jones will tell Mrs. Jones-Smith that her son is in 
hospital with a septic compound fracture and that the 
wound is being fully drained, and Mrs. J.-S. will reply 
that her sister's husband, Captain X of the R.F. A., 



BETHUNE 185 

is recovering from a penetrating wonnd of the lung, 
but has still some pleural effusion. So no apology is 
further necessary when referring to such a thing as gas 
gangrene. 

Gas gangrene was one of the terrors of the doctors 
at this time. It was a new and totally unexpected 
complication of the wounds, and at first we did not 
know what to do in the face of this pressing danger. A 
man would get, say, a flesh wound of the arm or leg, or 
perhaps a fractured bone, and very soon the whole limb 
would become gangrenous and die. Gangrene means 
death of the part. It may be death of a small part or 
of a large part, and the worst feature of the form of 
gangrene met with at Bethune was its tendency to rapid 
spread, resulting in the speedy death of the limb and 
of the patient. We had many deaths from this terrible 
gas gangrene, and performed many amputations to 
save lives. A good surgeon hates to amputate a limb, 
and will gladly exert all his skill and knowledge to save 
even a toe. It was heartrending to have to perform 
so many amputations at Bethune, and yet these serious 
mutilating operations had to be performed in order to 
save lives. 

The gangrene was caused by a group of bacilli called 
anaerobes, amongst which may be many organisms. 
About ten different organisms have been obtained from 
cases of gas gangrene, and these all belong to the same 
family of anaerobic bacilli. They are all spore-bearing, 
and grow in the absence of air. These bacilli are found 
in the soil in France and Belgium, and are always to be 



186 A SUEGBON IN KHAKI 

found in the soil of those countries which have been 
closely cultivated for centuries past. 

If a guinea-pig is inoculated with a sample of this 
earth shaken up in a little water it will develop this gas 
gangrene and die. Imagine, then, this picture. The 
soil of the trenches is full of these organisms, which, if 
introduced into an open wound, grow and spread and 
cause the limb to become gangrenous. As the organism 
spreads up the limb it produces a gas of its own, and 
by pressing on the skin one can feel this gas cracking, 
like tissue paper, under the fingers. The treatment is 
to inject the parts with oxygen or peroxide of hydrogen, 
to make free incisions round the wound, thoroughly 
cleanse the wound and keep it clean, The general 
condition of the patients required great care, for they 
were all very, very ill. When a man got wounded in 
the trenches some dirt was bound to get into the wound, 
for the men's hands and clothes were usually caked 
with mud. 

It is a natural movement to clap a hand on the 
wounded spot. If a man is struck on the face or limbs, 
he will lay down his rifle or perhaps drop it, and at 
once put his hand on the injured part to ascertain the 
extent. It is a movement which is almost involuntary. 
I have seen hit men do this often, and when they with- 
draw their hand they always look at it to see if there is 
any blood, and the bravest man does not like to see 
his own blood. The hands of the men in the trenches 
were infected with the bacilli of this gas gangrene and 
of tetanus, and when these infected fingers touched a 



BETHUNE 187 

recent wound, the wound itself became infected with 
these highly dangerous organisms. 

Pieces of khaki cloth, caked in mud, were often 
driven into the wounds with the bullets and shrapnel, 
and on this cloth there were of course millions of the 
deadly little beasts. 

If the case reached us soon after the onset of 
gangrene a cure could almost certainly be promised. 
If the case arrived late, when the limbs were dead, 
amputation was the only " conservative treatment " 
that one could adopt. Many of the cases sent to me 
were beyond any hope of recovery and soon died. On 
one day I saw in one Clearing Hospital in the town 
four cases dying from gas gangrene ; in the other Clearing 
Hospital, two cases in articulo mortis from the same 
trouble ; and in my own, one other case. Seven cases 
dying on one day from gas gangrene ! None of these 
had been operated upon. This will give some idea 
of the formidable character of this complication. 

None but the very serious cases were sent to me. 
Many cases of gas gangrene were evacuated early and 
sent to the Base Hospitals. Most of my cases came 
from one or other of the Clearing Hospitals in this town. 
Some arrived direct from the Field Ambulances. In 
every amputation for gas gangrene performed at this 
hospital the limb was absolutely dead and beyond the 
possibility of any treatment short of amputation. All 
the patients were in an extremely grave state, and 
their general condition was in every case very bad. I 
cannot picture any worse surgical subject than these 



188 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

men with gas gangrene. Numbers of them were in too 
low a state to admit of a general anaesthetic, and here 
the necessary operations were performed under con- 
duction anaesthesia. 

Dr. F , an eminent French surgeon in charge 

of the French wounded in this town, saw many of 
my cases before, during, and after operation. I had 
the privilege also of seeing his gangrene cases at this 
time. He had amongst the French wounded the same 
experience as mine. Both of us had German wounded 
to treat, and here also we met dead limbs from gas 
gangrene. We were both of the opinion that the 
Germans at this place were also up against a very 
virulent " culture " here, that of the anaerobe. Some 
wounded French refugees were brought into this 
hospital at this period, and some of these had gas 
gangrene. The serious character of gas gangrene at 
this time could only be recognised at the front. The 
serious cases were retained here for operation. I am 
of the opinion that all cases of gangrene should be 
treated at the front at the nearest Clearing Hospital, 
and that no case should be sent to the Base till the 
gangrene had disappeared, subject, of course, as always, 
to the military situation. All the wounded admitted 
to this town — French, British, and German — came 
from the same area of the battle front. 

In many of the cases of gas gangrene bones were 
badly shattered and pulverised, splinters of bone were 
lying in surrounding muscles, or had been driven out 
through the skin. Important nerves were injured, 



BETHUNE 189 

torn, or compressed in many of them. Important 
blood-vessels were frequently, but not invariably, 
injured. In some, big vessels had been torn through ; 
in others, arteries and nerves were compressed by dis- 
placed fragments of bone. The wounds were dirty 
in most cases. The skin was black and lacerated, and 
muscles were extruded and covered with coagulated 
blood clots. — Wound full of blood clots, and containing 
at times pieces of khaki cloth, shrapnel fragments, 
nickel casing of bullets, gravel, and, in two cases, bits of 
rock. — So runs the record in my notes. There were, 
however, cases in which the bullet had drilled an 
apparently clean hole through a joint, like the wrist 
or ankle, without much apparent destruction to bone. 
In such cases one would not expect gas gangrene ; yet 
it sometimes occurred. 

Gas gangrene is encouraged by tight bandaging, 
and many of the cases had a bandage applied all too 
firmly. When a man is wounded in a trench his mate 
frequently applies the first-aid dressing, and fixes it 
like a tourniquet. This could perhaps be obviated 
by making the bandage of the first field-dressing a 
little wider than at present. A narrow bandage tends 
to become cord-like. 

All the cases of gas gangrene had a very penetrating 
putrefactive smell, which is quite characteristic. The 
area of advancing gangrene is preceded by an cedematous 
zone, which fades in one direction to the area of healthy 
skin and in the direction towards the wound to a dullish 
injected area which crackles on palpation. Nearer 



190 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

the wound the skin is purplish and dark. Around 
the edges of the usually jagged wound the tissues were 
black or greenish-black. Extravasated blood under- 
mined the skin all round the wound. The wound itself 
was full of blood clots. The limb distal to the wound 
was swollen, greenish-black, covered with green blebs, 
cold, insensitive, and pulseless in the " dead " limbs. 
Frequently toes and fingers were quite black. In 
other serious cases there might be a little warmth or a 
slight pulse. If any case showed either of these two 
favourable signs, an attempt was made to save the 
limb, and was in many cases successful. The gangrene 
did not spread up a limb in an even circle. For example, 
it might reach anteriorly to the lower third of the 
thigh, and posteriorly be at or well above the fold of the 
buttock. This was due to the extravasated blood 
lying more towards the dependent parts and to gravity. 
In the upper arm the gangrene travelled rapidly up 
the inner side along the course of the big blood-vessels. 
The invasion spread upwards ; very little crackling 
was felt below the site of the wound. The circulation 
below seemed to be rapidly cut off, and that portion of 
the limb underwent the changes associated with a 
complete circulatory block. Wounds of the thigh with 
shattering of the femur, wounds of the elbow- joint 
and of the metatarsus were very prone to develop this 
gangrene. Some of the cases were admitted within 
thirty-six hours after receipt of the wound, with well- 
marked gangrene. 

In every case of amputation performed there was 



BETHUNE 191 

nothing else to be done in order to save life. The 
limbs were dead. In many of these cases important 
blood-vessels were torn, crushed, or compressed, and 
when the vessels were injured the gangrene developed 
more quickly and spread more rapidly. It is regrettable 
that one had to perform so many amputations at this 
time, but it is a matter for congratulation that so many 
lives were saved. One of the cases died suddenly 
twelve hours after a disarticulation at the shoulder- 
joint. Another one died three days after amputation 
at the hip-joint, from gangrene which progressed 
steadily on to the lower abdomen. There were, in 
addition, five deaths from gangrene following wounds 
of the extremities. These five were admitted in a dying 
condition, and passed away two to four hours after 
admission. One could do nothing for them surgically. 
Other cases died at the other Clearing Hospitals in the 
town. It was a sad and mournful experience seeing 
these fine young men die. 

These cases of gas gangrene were all bad surgical 
subjects, for in addition to the gangrene, loss of blood, 
privation, and exposure subsequent to being wounded, 
their wounds were dangerous and mutilating, and the 
transportation to the hospital was, sometimes, necessarily 
an agonising ordeal. This will show that our Clearing 
Hospitals at the front should be well and thoroughly 
equipped with all modern appliances for the treatment 
of shock, and a staff fully alive to this clamant necessity. 
A Clearing Hospital cannot to-day remain as an ad- 
ministrative unit only. 



192 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

Another complication of our wounds at this time 
was tetanus (or the so-called lock-jaw). When it was 
recognised that the bacillus of tetanus was also found 
in the soil of France and Flanders, efficient measures 
were at once adopted to combat its terrible effects. 
Accordingly anti-tetanic serum was provided at all the 
Base Hospitals, Clearing Hospitals, and Ambulances, and 
every man wounded in France or Flanders to-day gets 
an injection of this serum within twenty-four hours of 
the receipt of the wound. No deaths from tetanus 
have occurred since these measures have been adopted. 

Tetanus caused many deaths at the beginning of 
the war, not only amongst our own soldiers, but also 
amongst the Belgians, French, and Germans. When 
tetanus manifests itself, when the convulsions and 
muscular spasms come on, it is a terrible malady to 
treat, and most of the cases die. At this time the 
injection of anti-tetanic serum does not ensure a recovery, 
but if this serum is given to every wounded man, then 
none will develop tetanus, and that is why none of the 
wounded men are asked if they will have the "lock-jaw 
injection." At the front there is no time for con- 
scientious objectors. 

Shrapnel wounds were always bad ; the round 
bullets of lead always ripped and tore the tissues about 
so terribly. The Mauser bullet did not cause nearly 
so much damage, but it sometimes produced very 
lacerating wounds. The Mauser bullet " turns over " 
when travelling through a limb, and this turning means 
tearing of tissues on the path of the bullet, and often a 



BETHUNE 193 

huge jagged wound like that produced by an explosive 
bullet. 

It has been said that we are treating wounds of 
an eighteenth-century character with twentieth-century 
technique. The eighteenth-century battle wounds 
were inflicted at close range, and so are many of the 
wounds inflicted to-day. 

At Crecy and Agincourt both sides used arrows. 
The aviators of the Allies and the enemy carry steel 
darts which they spin down on the foe below. Bows 
have been used in the trenches to send inflammable 
arrows into the opposing lines. The Roman soldier 
advanced to close combat behind a shield held on his 
left arm, and shields have been used at certain observa- 
tion spots by the Germans and in the Russian trenches ; 
our Allies have at times used spades for a similar purpose. 

Bombards were employed at Crecy, and bombards 
have come to their own again in the trenches from 
Switzerland to the sea. Hand grenades were employed 
in the Peninsular War, and are employed to-day in this 
War of the Nations. Our men attack the enemy and 
the enemy attack us with bayonets as in the days of 
the Crimea and the Peninsula, and our riflemen pick 
off the enemy by long-distance fire, and also fire at close 
range into solid masses of them. Even the armour of 
old days is represented on modern fields of battle, for 
the French Cuirassier goes into action with a brass 
cuirass and helmet ; and a French infantry officer of my 
acquaintance has worn a light shirt of chain-mail 
extending from his neck to beyond his hips, all through 
13 



194 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

this campaign, and he said that it had saved his life 
on more than one occasion. In one magasin in Rouen 
shirts of beautifully made chain-mail can be purchased, 
and the shopkeeper told me that he had sold hundreds 
to French soldiers. 

The hardships of the Crimean trenches — cold, 
rheumatism, and frostbite — have been repeated on the 
Yser. Gangrene was rampant amongst the wounded 
of Wagram, Austerlitz, and Borodino, and amongst the 
French and British wounded at Vittoria, Salamanca, 
Badajos, and other great battles of the Peninsula, and it 
has startlingly reappeared on the Aisne and in Flanders. 

Historians of that day refer to it as hospital 
gangrene, or the gangrene so common after any surgical 
operation or wound of that time. It may, on the other 
hand, have been the same gas gangrene that has omin- 
ously complicated so many of our wounds in France 
and Flanders. The bacillus which produces this 
gangrene may belong, for all we know to the contrary, 
to a very old family of bacilli, who would look upon 
pedigrees dating to William the Conqueror with an 
aristocratic contempt when his own stretched back to 
the beginning of time. 

There is one feature of war as carried on to-day 
which is quite new, and that is by poison gases and by 
poisoning wells and water supplies. In West Africa 
the Germans have been proved indisputably and by 
their own admissions to have poisoned wells and water 
supplies, and the whole world stands amazed and 
aghast at the devilish and inhuman Germans who set 



BETHUNE 195 

free poison gases to overwhelm and suffocate British, 
French, and Belgian soldiers in the trenches. This 
diabolical and ghastly method of murder is without 
parallel in history, and the bloodily-minded men who 
conceived and carried out this sinister, ferocious thing 
will live accursed all their days and be a name of scorn 
and loathing for ever. 

Although the civil hospital at Bethune was such a 
grim place of crowded wounded, it was yet the scene 
of much humour. We had wounded men belonging to 
many different countries, and the nuns were very 
interested in all the odd types. Off one of the large 
French wards there was a small room holding eight 
beds, and a nun brought me in one day to see the curious 
occupants ranged in beds alongside each other. There 
were a Senegalese, an Algerian, a Zouave, an Alpine 
Chasseur, a Turco, a native of Madagascar, a man of 
the Foreign legion, and a Frenchman. I think that the 
nuns always kept this ward " International/' It was 
their little joke, and visitors were always shown this 
ward. The patients themselves enjoyed the melange. 
The courtyard of the hospital was a great meeting-place 
for our convalescent soldiers with the French con- 
valescents, and they used to sit about on benches 
surrounded by an admiring lot of French women from 
the town. We also had a fair number of German 
wounded on our hands, and one of them at this time 
was terribly ill, suffering from the after-effects of gas 
gangrene of the foot following on a bullet wound of the 
ankle joint. His foot was amputated, and he had a 



196 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

struggle for some days to keep going, but eventually 
pulled through. The wounded German soldiers were 
very tractable and easy to manage. They were obedient, 
gave no trouble, and seemed grateful. I cannot say the 
same of the two wounded German officers I had. Both 
were slight wounds, and ought not really to have been 
sent to this hospital at all. They were truculent and 
overbearing to the nuns and orderlies, and behaved 
like cads. The German has no sense of humour. He 
takes himself very seriously, and that amuses us. He 
thinks and says that we are fools, and that also amuses 
us. A German once said that the English would always 
be fools, and that the Germans would never be gentle- 
men. This is most obviously correct. We asked a 
German sergeant-major who had been captured if the 
Hymn of Hate was really popular in Germany. The 
sergeant-major in civil life was a school teacher. He 
wore big spectacles and had a rough beard, and was 
altogether a very serious-minded man. He assured us 
that the German hate was a very real one, and he took 
the hymn very seriously. Lissauer, its author, is said 
to be a serious man also, and has he not been awarded 
the Cross of the Red Eagle by the All Highest himself ? 
We laugh at the hymn, and this makes the German 
mad. Certainly we must be fools to laugh at the 
Hymn of Hate. The words inspire and enthral the 
Teuton, and the music uplifts his sentimental soul to 
the Empyrean. 

"We love as one, we hate as one. 
We have one foe, and one alone — England." 



BETHUNE 197 

The German considers this to be a purely German 
hymn, breathing the spirit of the Fatherland — unending 
hate. It is his song, and to sing it does him good. 
You can then understand the expression of blank 
amazement on the face of our captured schoolmaster — 
the sergeant-major with the spectacles and beard — 
when he was told that the Hymn of Hate was sung with 
gusto in the music halls of London and Paris, and was 
received by the audience with shrieking sounds of 
applause. 

The Hymn of Hate sung by an Englishman in an 
English music hall ! Donnerwetter ! He could not 
understand. He had no sense of humour. 

A Prussian officer was captured in November with 
about fifteen men, and I saw him marched in shortly 
after the capture. He looked arrogant, and one in- 
stinctively took a dislike to him, he was so obviously 
stamped " bounder." 

His revolver was in its pouch on his belt. We had 
forgotten to take it, and he had forgotten that it was 
there. Our prisoner spoke English very well, and said 
that "he wished he had been shot. He was for ever 
and ever disgraced at being made a prisoner. His 
regiment would not have him again as an officer." 
The impression we formed, who were standing 
round listening, was that this whining bounder seemed 
to feel it a particular disgrace to be a prisoner of the 
hated English. An English officer in charge at this 
particular place here went up to our snarling Prussian 
who wished " that he had been killed " and said : " I 



198 A SUBGEOM IN KHAKI 

see we have omitted to take over your revolver. It 
is still in your pouch and probably loaded — sure to be. 
You say you are sorry you were not killed. Well, go 
off five paces over there and blow your damned head 
off with your own gun. I won't interfere with you, 
and none of us will mourn for you." The Prussian 
shut up like an oyster. We all laughed, and the 
soldiers round enjoyed it hugely. The eyes of the 
man blazed with fury, but he made no movement 
towards that five paces off, and handed over his re- 
volver to our English officer, who refused to touch it, 
and called on a soldier to take it. 

The Prussian did not see the humour of the situation, 
and " there's the humour on't " old Falstaff would 
have said. 

A few days after the sinking of the Emden the news 
reached the British and French in the trenches. The 
French were as delighted as we were. In the Argonne 
an advanced French trench was separated by only the 
width of a road from an advanced German trench. 
The officer in command of the French trench wrote out 
the news of the Emden fight on a piece of paper and 
tied this paper round a stone, which he flung into the 
German trench. It was received with guttural cries 
of annoyance. Shortly after this time from the German 
trench came another stone with a piece of paper in- 
scribed, " Monsieur, go to Hell." The French officer, 
ever polite and determined to have the last word, sent 
back this note : 

" Dear Bosches, — I have been to many places. I 



BETHUNE 199 

have been invited to visit many places in my time, but 
this is the first time that I have been invited to visit 
the German headquarters." 

There is a society in London called the " Society 
for Lonely Soldiers." Its object is to be of some 
assistance to soldiers who have no relations or friends 
and are quite alone in the world. A young lady of this 
society sent a parcel of comforts to the British prison 
camp in Germany, and addressed the parcel to " The 
loneliest British soldier in Germany." 

Some weeks afterwards a reply was received from 
the German officer in command of the camp. " Madam, 
your gifts have been impartially distributed amongst all 
the prisoners. We were unable to decide which was 
the loveliest British soldier in camp." Imagine a 
spectacled old German officer methodically scrutinising 
all the British prisoners to ascertain which was the 
" loveliest " one ! 

Apropos of humour, read this incident reported by 
" Eye-witness " from the front. " One wounded 
Prussian officer of a particularly offensive and truculent 
type, which is not uncommon, expressed the greatest 
contempt for our methods : ' You do not fight. You 
murder ! ' he said. * If it had been straightforward, 
honest fighting we should have beaten you, but my 
regiment never had a chance from the first. There 
was a shell every ten yards. Nothing could live in 
such a fire/ " 

This from one of the apostles of frightfulness ! 



200 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

Now read this concluding sentence in a letter from 
a German lady of high social position to a Russian 
lady: 

" We wish to carry in our hearts an undying hatred, 

and we utterly reject all useless verbiage on c humanity/ 

" To mothers and to German women this hate gives a 

sort of satisfaction without which our hearts would not 

be able to support," etc. etc. 

Read this order of the day, dated 26th August 1914, 
from General Stenger, Brigadier of the 88th Brigade, 
14th Baden Army Corps. (This document is quite 
authentic, and is at present in the hands of the 
French War Office. ) This is the translation : " The 
Brigade on setting out to-day will make no prisoners ; all 
prisoners will be killed. The wounded, with or with- 
out arms, will be put to death. Prisoners, even in 
large organised units, will be put to death. No living 
man must remain in our rear." 

More will be heard of this document at the end of 
the war. It is a prized possession of the French just 
now. 

Yet our wounded Prussian officer, as related above, 
objected to our murderous artillery fire, and said that 
" we do not fight, we murder." In spite of the tragic 
side the incident has some humour. 

Dr. Ludwig Ganghofer, a Bavarian Court journalist, 
recently described a visit which he had paid to a 
German hospital in Lille. He there saw some wounded 
British prisoners. Two caught his eye, and thus he 
writes : 



BETHUNE 201 

" As I regarded these two sulky pups of the British 
lion, I had a feeling as if every hair on my head stood 
on end. This unpleasant irritation only ceased when 
I had turned my German back on the sons of civilised 
Albion, and looked again at suffering human beings." 

" Suffering human beings " is good : our two un- 
fortunate countrymen were not human beings. They 
were pups of the British lion — young lions, in fact. 
The German appellation for us is improving. Some 
weeks ago we were " Swine dogs," now we are " Young 
lions." Ganghofer is the Bavarian Court journalist. 
One wonders if that feudal power keeps a court jester. 



CHAPTER XVI. 
SOME MEDICAL ODDS AND ENDS. 

FUNCTIONAL BLINDNESS. 

At Bethune some of us met for the first time in this 
war cases of functional temporary blindness, and many 
other cases were met with at various points of the 
front. 

The following example will give an idea of the 
condition. A young officer, nineteen years of age, 
was standing by a haystack in the north of France 
when a large Black Maria burst near him, rolled him 
over, and plastered him with clay, but did not kill him. 
The concussion had thrown him down. He remained 
unconscious for half an hour, and when he woke to 
consciousness he discovered he was !t blind." His 
mental state then was terrible. He cried out, " Oh, why 
wasn't I killed ? " " Won't some one carry me out and 
put me on the parapet of a trench so that I may be 
killed ? " His grief was pathetic, and one can easily 
understand it. A careful examination was made of 
the interior of the eyes with the ophthalmoscope and 
nothing was found wrong. He was assured by the 
medical officers that he would certainly recover after 
perhaps a week or two of blindness. He was quiet 



SOME MEDICAL ODDS AND ENDS 203 

and composed after this, but was a little bit suspicious 
that we were only trying to cheer him up. One medical 
officer then explained to him what sort of blindness it 
was : that it was due to concussion of the nerve of sight, 
and the delicate structures at the ball of the eye ; that 
nothing was destroyed, and that a complete rest would 
bring back his vision. Next day he was transferred 
by hospital train to the Base en route for England. 
This note, unknown to him, was pinned on his coat : 
" Functional blindness. Any medical officer handling 
this officer on Hospital Train, Base Hospital, or Hospital 
Ship, please tell him that he will fully recover his sight." 
Knowing the kind-hearted nature of the medical pro- 
fession, one can be sure that he was cheered up all the 
way to England. I received a letter from this officer's 
mother some weeks after, saying that her son had 
completely recovered his vision, and was as well as 
ever. 

NERVE CONCUSSION 

Nerve concussion is a pathological condition that 
has received more attention in this war than at any 
previous time. A young Fusilier at La Bassee was 
hit by a bullet through the fleshy part of the forearm. 
The wound was a purely flesh one and no important 
nerve could have been struck. He had paralysis of 
the wrist and hand, due to concussion of the important 
nerves of the forearm. The bullet in its course did not 
strike these nerves. He got completely better in eight 
weeks. 

A Gordon Highlander was struck by a bullet in the 



204 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

right buttock. No important nerve was struck, yet 
he had paralysis of the limb owing to concussion of the 
sciatic nerve. He got better by rest in bed and massage 
of the muscles. A soldier of the Wiltshire Regiment 
was rolled over by the concussion of a bursting shell. 
He retained consciousness, but could not get up or move 
his right arm. The right side of his body was paralysed. 
He got better by rest. A Bedfordshire sergeant got a 
bullet wound through the upper arm, and paralysis of 
certain muscles supplied by nerves in the vicinity of the 
track of the bullet. It was thought that the nerves 
were divided, and after the wound had healed the nerves 
were exposed at an operation intending to join the 
severed ends. The nerves were found to be uninjured, 
and the incision in the skin was closed up. He made 
a complete recovery. 

There is also the story of the soldier who suddenly 
recovered his voice in the presence of King George. 
The story is going the rounds of the hospitals, and it is 
said that His Majesty was extraordinarily interested 
in the phenomenon. This soldier was taken prisoner 
by the Germans during our retreat from Belgium. 
He was picked off the field in a dazed condition and 
unable to speak. He was interned later in a prison 
camp in Germany and was all this time quite unable 
to speak. When the exchange of permanently disabled 
prisoners of war was recently made between England 
and Germany, this man was sent back as permanently 
incapacitated on account of being dumb. He was 
admitted to a hospital near London. One day the 



SOME MEDICAL ODDS AND ENDS 205 

King visited the hospital, and this man on getting 
up from his chair as the King entered the ward, in- 
advertently touched a heating pipe which was then 
very hot. He at once exclaimed " Damn/' and was 
able to speak perfectly afterwards. The King was 
very much interested. Was this an hysterical loss of 
voice or a concussion ? It was a mental shock of some 
kind, and the recovery was due to the other shock of 
touching a hot pipe. 

I attended one young officer and three men who had 
been buried in the earth when their trench was blown 
up. The officer and one man were unconscious, and 
when the man recovered consciousness he was nervy 
and excitable. He had a startled, terrified expression, 
and when in bed he would peer round in a wild, anxious 
way, and then suddenly pull the blankets well over 
his head and curl up underneath as if anxious to shut 
out his surroundings, or what he thought were his 
surroundings. He seemed really to be living 
through some terrifying experiences of the past few 
days antecedent and up to the time when his 
trench was blown up and he was engulfed in the mud 
and debris. 

The officer recovered consciousness more slowly, and 
spoke in a curious staccato speech ; his nerves were 
completely gone, and he had fine tremors of the 
lips aud tongue and fingers. He told me that his 
memory had gone, that he had only a hazy recollec- 
tion of recent things, which seemed far away 
and dim. 



206 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

DEAF MUTISM. 

Several cases of deaf mutism have occurred during 
the hard fighting near Ypres and La Bassee, and these 
are certainly very curious. The men so afflicted have 
written down that shells burst near them, that they 
were thrown down, and remembered nothing more for 
a time. On coming to again, they were deaf and dumb. 
These men also show other signs of nerve shock ; they 
are restless, troubled with sleeplessness, and have 
anxious expressions. Generally all get completely well 
in a few weeks, but some of the cases remain mute for a 
much longer time. 

LICE. 

The medical officer at the front to-day has other 
duties besides those of attending to the sick and 
wounded. He is concerned with the prevention of 
disease, with water supplies, sanitation of billeting 
areas and camps, means to prevent frostbite, and so on. 
He has also to advise on methods of treating and 
avoiding vermin. Lice are, without a doubt, one of the 
terrors of war. These little beasts are not harmless. 
They take a high place in the sphere of destructive 
agents. I would group them in the class with shrapnel 
bombs and high explosives. Wherever many men are 
gathered closely together, and hygienic laws, owing to 
military needs, are in temporary abeyance, there will 
lice be found, constituting themselves one of the terrors 
of war. Officers and men get them, and once these 
pests gain entry to one's wardrobe they entrench 



SOME MEDICAL ODDS AND ENDS 207 

themselves in their battalions and divisions, and require 
very drastic efforts to dislodge. In the early fighting 
in Flanders and in Northern France, on the Marne 
and Aisne, these beasts gave us great trouble. They 
are most active at night when one gets warm in bed. 
It is not the bite that counts, but, as the old French 
Countess once expressed it to a Minister of State, it 
is " toujours le promenade." The promenading 
causes irritation and insomnia. Scratching produces 
excoriations of the skin, and then a whole lot of sequent 
complications. Lice are factors in the spread of 
typhus fever, and when typhus visits an army in the 
field it carries death and desolation to thousands. 
To illustrate the point read this extract from a letter 
written from an English hospital in Serbia : f The 
great scourge of this country is typhus fever. It was 
introduced by the Austrian prisoners at Christmas. 
Out of 2500 Austrian prisoners at Uskub, 1000 had died 
of fever and 1200 were down with it. It is a terrible 
disease, and is carried not by infection but by lice. 
One has to take tremendous precautions to avoid these 
creatures." 

The majority of our wounded taken from the 
fighting line at La Bassee to the hospital at Bethune 
were infested with lice. Lice invaded the clothing 
of all who handled these poor fellows, and very drastic 
measures had to be taken to combat the scourge. 

The following story will illustrate the vitality of 
these nasty little beasts. Our Field Ambulance once 
stopped at a small town in Northern France and was 



208 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

billeted in a French convent. The good sisters allowed 
us the use of the schoolrooms, the kitchen, and some of 
the bedrooms. All the officers were anxious to get their 
shirts and linen washed. The laundrywoman duly 
appeared and boiled all these articles, and the sisters 
ironed them for us. On the afternoon of the ironing 
the Mother Superior and two sisters came to us in a 
state of excitement, talking rapidly, and evidently 
overcome with amazement. They explained that our 
shirts had been boiled and then dried in the open air. 
When they began to iron the necks of our shirts the 
lice sprang to life and were exceedingly active. They 
assured us solemnly that scores sprang to active life 
under the comfortable warmth of the hot iron. I do 
not doubt the story. The heat had matured the 
chitinous envelope in which the young lice lay, and 
out they came, joyous, active, and sportive on the nice 
warm surface. Hence the amazement, the uplifted 
hands, and the consternation of the good sisters. The 
riddle of their extermination has not yet been com- 
pletely solved, but measures are in active progress. 
It is an unsavoury subject, but it is a very important 
one for troops in camp and in the field. 

SHELL FUMES. 

"Thou shalt not kill, 
But do not strive 
Officiously to keep alive." 

A great deal has been written on the effect of shell 
fumes in this war. So much is hearsay and so little 
really authentic, that one cannot dogmatise. 



SOME MEDICAL ODDS AND ENDS 209 

One naval surgeon said that men exposed to fumes 
of bursting shells develop acute pneumonia, which 
proves fatal as a rule. This is supposed to be due to 
the nitric peroxide produced by the explosion. 

Artillery officers have told me that stories were going 
the round of the batteries that the Germans fired 
certain shells at our aeroplanes which, on burst- 
ing, set free certain gases which intoxicated the 
aviators. 

A French gunner-major circumstantially related 
that a German trench which had been heavily shelled 
with turpinite shells was found full of dead Germans, 
standing or sitting in life-like attitudes and with faces 
quite black. He said that the look-out man was lying 
in his natural attitude holding field-glasses to his eyes. 
He was apparently alive, but was really dead, stiff, 
and with black face and hands. These statements 
have not been confirmed, but the stories of similar 
incidents are many. There is no doubt that lyddite 
and melinite fumes can, when inhaled, produce sudden 
poisonous changes. I have myself seen British soldiers 
and German prisoners, after having been exposed to 
these fumes, come in with deeply yellow jaundiced 
skin. One man, in fact, looked exactly like a man 
suffering from acute jaundice. 

It is also said that the fumes induce drowsiness. 
Turpinite shells were employed at one stage of the war 
and are to be employed again. M. Turpin has recently 
been at the front with a French battery. Certainly 
turpinite does emit dangerous fumes. Many believe 
14 



210 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

that it is some form of cyanogen gas — allied to prussic 
acid. 



The force of these high explosives is well illustrated 
by an occurrence of 25th January. Previous to making 
an assault the Germans fired a mine under our front 
trench near the railway east of Cuinchy. The ex- 
plosion hurled a piece of rail weighing 25 lbs. a distance 
of over a mile, into a field close to where some of our 
men were working. 

It is reported that on 1st February the detonation 
of one of our lyddite shells in the enemy trenches on 
the embankment south of the canal, threw a German 
soldier right across the railway and the canal amongst 
our men on the north side of the latter. 

At Fort Conde, on the Aisne, the air concussion of a 
bursting shell from a French 75 mm. lifted a large 
four-wheeled country waggon bodily out of a yard 
and planted it on the roof of a barn. The waggon was 
not injured. A bursting shell is the very incarnation 
of violence. Lord Fisher said that " The Essence of 
War is Violence. Moderation in War is Imbecility. 
Hit first. Hit hard. Hit everywhere/' The big 
shells to-day do all this. 

The fumes emitted by bursting charges of lyddite, 
melinite, or turpinite must not be confused with the 
poison gases sent out over our men by the Germans. 
The lyddite and melinite are put in the shells for a 
definite object which is permitted by the Hague Con- 
vention, and by the opinion of mankind generally. 



SOME MEDICAL ODDS AND ENDS 211 

Their object is to burst the shell at the desired time 
and distance, and plaster the enemy with the iron or 
shrapnel. They are not intended to kill, and do not 
kill by poisonous fumes. The German poison gas 
is intended to kill, and does produce intolerable agony 
and lingering deaths, and for this the German stands 
accused before High Heaven. 

NEURASTHENIA OR " NERVES." 

Many officers and some men have been sent back 
from the front in France and Flanders suffering from 
Nerves. These men are not " nervous " as the public 
generally understand that term. They are brave 
and courageous men who are anxious to do their duty. 
They are, moreover, men who have done their duty 
in the face of a determined foe, have endured great 
hardships and discomforts in the trenches and batteries, 
and have faced death in all the many hellish shapes 
that it assumes to-day. I said " many officers and 
some men " have been so afflicted, and it is true that 
the officer is much more prone to get " nerves " than is 
the simple soldier. The life of the officer is one of 
responsibility and worry, but the soldier's mental lot 
is simpler — he just does what he is told and has 
" not to reason why." The education and upbringing 
of the officer are different, as a rule, from that of the 
soldier, and heredity has an influence on a man's 
nervous organisation. In civil life anyone can call to 
mind certain boys and girls who are more " nervous " 
than others. I do not mean more afraid of danger or 



212 A SUBGEON IN KHAKI 

more effeminate, but more likely to be exalted or 
depressed by certain circumstances than their more 
stolid neighbours. What is true of homes and of 
schools is equally true of nations. Unreal though it 
sounds, there is no doubt that the Germans are more 
emotional than the French, and German leaders know 
full well the emotional side of their people. The German 
is easily exalted and can be easily depressed. The 
Frenchman can be made furiously angry when he is 
affronted or insulted, but he is not easily depressed, 
and he is too cautious to be easily exalted. The German 
soldier and people must be strengthened and mentally 
sustained by stories of German victories and prowess, 
but the Frenchman, like the Englishman, is most 
formidable when he knows the worst there is to know 
and is " up against things." 

It may be that our officers who develop neur- 
asthenia at the front are more emotional and imagina- 
tive than those who do not, but they are no less 
courageous. An officer was sent to England for 
neurasthenia, and felt ashamed to tell his friends that 
he was sent back as his " nerve was gone." He was 
not in the list of wounded, yet his brain and nervous 
system had received a wound as much as the man with 
a bullet-hole through his shoulder, and the treatment 
for these " mental wounds " is like that for most other 
wounds, " time and rest," but the mental wound 
also requires quietness. The officer with the mental 
wound, the nerve shock, the neurasthenia, cannot be 
treated successfully in the general wards of a noisy 



SOME MEDICAL ODDS AND ENDS 213 

hospital. He must be put in quiet and peaceful 
surroundings and live in an atmosphere free from 
noise, bustle, and commotion. His treatment must 
also be directed by physicians who are authorities on 
this subject. A successful general practitioner or a 
renowned obstetrician are not likely to achieve brilliant 
results in treating neurasthenia. 

Fortunately the medical profession has already 
arranged special provision for these nerve cases, and 
the results, I am sure, will be eminently good. 

At Bethune one able artillery officer was brought into 
the Clearing Hospital suffering from neurasthenia. He 
had been through the retreat, the righting on the Marne 
and Aisne, and at La Bassee, and had done splendid 
service with his battery, and had been promoted. 
When I saw him he was walking up and down a room like 
a caged animal. I wished him good morning, and he 
pulled up suddenly in his stride, gazed at me with widely 
open eyes, and replied in a hesitating staccato voice, 
[* G-g-good m-m-morning, doctor." He had never 
stuttered before. Then away he went up and down 
again. I got him to sit down on a box and told him to 
light his pipe and talk about himself. He rilled his 
pipe with difficulty, stuffing the tobacco into the bowl 
with trembling and agitated fingers. He broke several 
wooden matches in trying to light them. He had lost 
the fine, practised discrimination necessary to rub a 
match on the side of the box, and he " jabbed " his 
match hard on it. I lit a match and gave it to him, as I 
was interested to see how he would light the pipe. He 



214 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

let that match fall. I lit another, and with this he 
burned his finger. I then held a lighted match over 
his pipe, and in a jerky way he managed to light the 
tobacco ; but he could not smoke properly, and the pipe 
soon went out . In the same j erky way he told me that he 
was forty-four years of age and had never been ill before. 
He was a good rifle shot, and had killed big game in 
India. He was a fair billiard player, and had been a 
temperate man all his life in all things. Talking 
in his spasmodic fashion, he had to stop for a word, 
and he then waved his hand about and frowned, as if 
angry with himself for having forgotten it. Up till a 
week ago he had been in perfect health, although the 
" strain " of the war had been tremendous ; then one 
of his brother officers and a sergeant had been killed 
close beside him, and his guns had to be moved to an- 
other position under a heavy fire. He could not sleep 
that night, and the firing of the guns, which previously 
had not troubled him in the least, now worried him. 
Next day he could not eat. In a few days he was a 
physical and mental wreck. He was sent to England, 
and I heard that he had made a complete recovery. 

One officer developed neurasthenia on the Aisne. 
His regiment had done brilliantly, but had suffered 
severe losses. The officer said that he was going to 
blow his brains out, so he was invalided into the hands 
of the doctors and later made a good recovery. He 
was suffering from the effects of strain and mental 
shock. 

Another officer on the staff was standing close by his 



SOME MEDICAL ODDS AND ENDS 215 

chief when a shell fell near, killing his chief outright. 
The staff officer had to be sent home for neurasthenia. 

Our wounded often show signs of neurasthenia. 
I well remember at the hospital at Bethune one man who 
had had to have his arm off at the shoulder joint for a 
bad shrapnel wound. He was dangerously ill and semi- 
conscious for several days. When he had fully roused 
to his surroundings and the knowledge of his weak- 
ness he was like a little child, crying and begging me 
to get him away from the sound of the firing. He said 
that he would be happy if only he could get away to 
some place where he would not hear the sound of the 
guns. On the day the German aeroplane dropped a 
bomb near the hospital the windows of the building 
shook and rattled with the concussion, and this poor 
devil screamed aloud with terror and tried to get out of 
bed and crawl away — anywhere from the sound of the 
firing. 

The French nursing sisters told me that the wounded 
Frenchmen work themselves into a terrible state of 
excitement in hospital when the firing is very brisk. 
They beg and beg to be taken away to the south of 
France, as far away as possible from the sound of con- 
flict. 

These were all brave men with injured nervous 
systems. 

SMALL ARM AMMUNITION. 

The Germans have charged the British, French, 
Russians, and Belgians with using Dum-Dum bullets. 
The Austrians have made the same charge against the 



216 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

Serbians and Montenegrins. The Triple Entente and its 
Allies have accused the Germans and Austrians of firing 
Dum-Dum bullets — so there you are. 

The Dum-Dum bullet was first made at Dum-Dum, 
near Calcutta. It was a Lee-Enfield bullet with an 
imperfect nickel sheath. This nickel or cupro-nickel 
sheath in the Dum-Dum stops at the " shoulder " of 
the bullet, and the point is therefore bare lead, a con- 
tinuation of the core of the bullet. Some modifications 
of the Dum-Dum exist . By rubbing the point of a nickel- 
coated Lee-Enfield bullet on a rough stone the cover is 
rubbed off, exposing the core of lead. A saw or file can 
make incisions in the long axis of the bullet exposing 
the lead this way, but leaving the tip covered with 
nickel. The destiny of a Dum-Dum is to break up when 
it strikes a bone. If it strikes a bone at a high rate of 
velocity it fragments and rips and tears the bone and 
surrounding soft structures. It is supposed to have 
greater " stopping power " against an infantry charge 
than an undeformed bullet. This supposition is in- 
correct. Certainly a Dum-Dum in traversing a limb or 
the chest can cause terrible and widespread destruction. 
In wounds inflicted by a Dum-Dum bits of the lead core 
and casing are scattered in various directions. But, 
— and this is important, — the same thing can be found 
in a wound inflicted by an undeformed Lee-Metford, 
Lebel, or Mauser bullet. The only certain proof of the 
employment of the Dum-Dums is to find them in the 
trenches captured from the enemy, or in the cartridge 
belts of wounded or prisoners. Again, a man may 



SOME MEDICAL ODDS AND ENDS 217 

have a bullet wound with a small entrance hole and 
a large, gaping, jagged exit. One unaccustomed to 
bullet wounds would immediately say that such a wound 
was caused by an explosive bullet. But it can be caused 
by the ordinary Lee-Met ford, Lebel, and Mauser bullets. 
I have seen these wounds frequently amongst Germans, 
French, and British. The explanation is that the bullet 
on striking a bone often carries along with it a fragment, 
large or small, and it is this fragment of bone that tears 
out a passage to the exit wound. The German bullet 
is easily extracted from the cartridge. It is almost 
impossible to extract the Lee-Metford bullet without 
strong instruments. The Germans have made use of this 
fact to extract the bullet from the cartridge and put it 
back " upside down," that is, with the nickel point inside 
the metal cartridge case, and the base with its exposed 
lead core outwards. Such a bullet on striking a bone 
expands and fragments, and causes great damage. 
I am not repeating a rumour when I make this state- 
ment. I have seen these cartridges with the inverted 
bullets in the belts of German prisoners captured in the 
trenches. Other surgeons have seen them also. The 
French say that it is a common practice amongst the 
Germans, and so did our men at Ypres. One German 
prisoner on the Yser when confronted with these bullets 
taken from his own belt, admitted having used them. 
He said that his company officer told him that they were 
useful to break down barbed- wire entanglements ! 

There is one interesting point about the German 
bullet, and that is its property of spinning on its short 



218 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

axis when it strikes an object. The centre of gravity 
of the German bullet is low down on its base, owing to its 
long and tapering shoulder. It therefore turns over on 
reaching its object. I had on the Aisne one man of the 
Norfolk Regiment admitted with a tiny entrance wound 
between the great and second toes of the foot. The 
bullet was found lodged in the large heel bone, and its 
base was facing towards the entrance wound. It could 
not have entered the foot in that position, because the 
entrance wound was too small. A bullet spinning 
round when traversing a limb can cause considerably 
more damage than one that pursues a direct course, 
and this fact is important in brain injuries. The bullet 
penetrates the skull by a small punctured opening, and 
then whirls round and round inside the brain. It 
may then again strike the bone on the other side with its 
long axis and cause considerable shattering and bleeding. 
This spinning action of the Mauser was a thing that 
every surgeon had to remember when treating his 
wounded. 

The Hague Convention of 1907 prohibits " the use 
of projectiles calculated to cause unnecessary suffering." 
The Hague Declarations of 1899 decide to " abstain 
from the use of bullets which expand or flatten easily 
in the human body," such as bullets with a hard envelope 
which does not entirely cover the core or is pierced with 
incisions. The St. Petersburg Declaration of 1868 
agrees to abolish the use of " any projectile of a weight 
below 400 grams which is either explosive or charged 
with fulminating or inflammable substances." 



SOME MEDICAL ODDS AND ENDS 219 

The British Medical Journal of 21st November 1914 
reports as follows on the subject of small arm ammuni- 
tion : 

The British service ammunition is known technic- 
ally as Mark vn. *303 S.A. Ammunition. The length of 
the bullet is T28 inches ; weight, 174 grains ; muzzle 
velocity, 2440 feet per second. The bullet is a pointed 
one with an envelope of cupro-nickel which completely 
covers the core except at the base. The ordinary 
German service ammunition is very similar. Length of 
bullet, 1*105 inches ; weight, 154 grains ; muzzle 
velocity, 2970 feet per second. This bullet is pointed, 
with a steel envelope coated with cupro-nickel covering 
the cone except at the base. Both bullets carry out 
the provisions of the Hague Convention. 

There is clear evidence that Germany has not 
confined herself solely to this unobjectionable ammuni- 
tion. Her troops, both in Togoland and in France, 
have been proved to have used bullets with a soft core 
and hard, thin envelope not entirely covering the core, 
which type of bullet is expanding and therefore expressly 
prohibited by the Hague Convention. 

Such bullets, of no less than three types, were found 
on the bodies of dead native soldiers serving with the 
German armed forces against British troops in Togoland 
in August, and on the persons of German, European, 
and native armed troops captured by us in that colony. 
All the British wounded treated in the British hospitals 
during the operations in Togoland were wounded by 
soft-nosed bullets of large calibre, and the injuries which 



220 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

these projectiles inflicted, in marked contrast to those 
treated by the British medical staff amongst the German 
wounded, were extremely severe, bones being shattered 
and the tissue so extensively damaged that amputation 
had to be performed. The use of these bullets was the 
subject of a written protest by the general officer 
commanding the British troops in Nigeria to the German 
acting governor of Togoland. 

Again at Gundelu, in France, on 19th September 
1914, soft-nosed bullets were found on the dead bodies 
of German soldiers of the Landwehr, and on the persons 
of soldiers of the Landwehr made prisoners of war by 
the British troops. One of these bullets has reached 
the War Office. It is undoubtedly expanding and 
directly prohibited by the Hague Convention. I am 
sure that Germany will be terribly upset at this, for 
Germany, we know, pays great respect to the articles 
of the Hague Convention ! 



CHAPTER XVII. 
WE LEAVE BETHUNEi 

One afternoon a German aeroplane dropped a bomb at 
the hospital gate, and a second one on a house near the 
gate. They burst with a terrific crash, shook the 
building and rattled the glass and startled us all. The 
same voyaging Taube dropped another bomb in the 
square of the city, and an old woman, a man, and a 
baby were struck. The old lady had to have her leg 
amputated and died on the succeeding day ; the man 
received a shell wound in the back of the head and he 
died a few days afterwards ; the baby was injured in 
the stomach and also died next day. One of our Army 
Service Corps men was struck by a piece of shell on the 
leg and received a serious wound. A corporal of the 
Army Service ran upstairs to me in the ward where I 
was busy dressing some cases and excitedly told me 
that his back was broken and that he thought he would 
soon be paralysed. We undressed him and found that 
a small piece of shell had made a slight wound on the 
muscles of the back, but that he was otherwise all right. 
He was reassured about the paralysis and the broken 
back. Two days afterwards another German aeroplane 
— or it may have been the same beast that had visited 



222 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

us before — flew over the city and dropped some more 
bombs, killing some unfortunate people and injuring 
others. 

On the following morning at three o'clock I was in 
one of the wards admitting some wounded men just in 
from the trenches, when the unmistakable burst of a 
Black Maria was heard close at hand. The shell had 
burst not far from the hospital, and was followed by- 
two more, one near the railway station, and one near 
the college not far away. The Germans had the range 
perfectly, and we expected a big bombardment. The 
authorities decided that Bethune was no longer a safe 
place for our Clearing Hospitals, and we were ordered 
to prepare for the evacuation of our wounded as soon 
as possible. This was soon done, and all were conveyed 
by ambulance motors to the hospital trains, with the 
exception of seven men. These men were all dying 
from severe injuries to the brain, and no good would 
be served by sending them down to the Base. So the 
seven poor fellows were put in beds alongside each 
other in one ward, and in three days they were dead, 
and buried in the now well-filled cemetery at Bethune. 

The two Clearing Hospitals in the city — British and 
Indian — were sent to Chocques, near Lillers. 

It was with a little heartache that I left Bethune 
and its good sisters. We had passed through days and 
nights of racking work and worry, and we had the 
satisfaction of feeling that we had all done our best. 
It is mournful to leave a place associated with many 
stirring episodes and with many warm friendships, for 



WE LEAVE BETHUNE 223 

in times like those at Bethune firm friendships were 
quickly made. In saying good-bye one seems to leave 
them behind for ever — and that is always sad. 

The nuns at this hospital were simply splendid all 
through, and I can quite understand how the religious 
sisters have come to their own again in France. 

From the earliest times and up till about eight years 
ago all the nursing in the French hospitals was done 
by sisters belonging to the various religious orders. 
Then came one of the big political upheavals for which 
France has been so noted in the past, and the nursing 
sisters gradually disappeared from the hospitals owing 
to the hostility of the State to the Church and all 
connected with it. The nursing sisters of these orders 
were at the time of this change well-trained medical 
and surgical nurses. As they were no longer able 
to exercise their professional skill, and no more 
of the younger nuns were trained in nursing, it 
followed that on the outbreak of war only the older 
nuns were capable of undertaking skilled nursing in 
the many hospitals. The demand for nurses was a 
clamant one, for from the very beginning of the 
war there were large casualties. It was said that the 
nursing by the lay sisters who succeeded the religious 
sisters was not of such a high order as in the old days 
owing to the absence of the strict and rigid discipline, 
the very fibre of the life of a sister in religion. I have 
heard this both from French surgeons and from visiting 
British surgeons. 

When the war broke out France was as ill prepared 



224 A SUEGEON IN KHAKI 

in her military medical branch as we were, and she was 
suddenly confronted with the problem of handling and 
treating many thousands of wounded. 

M. Clemenceau, an ex-Premier of France and a 
Doctor of Medicine, is also the editor of L'Homme 
Enchaine. At the outbreak of war this journal was 
known as L'Homme Libre, and Clemenceau so violently 
attacked the medical disorganisation and lack of pre- 
paration that the paper was promptly suppressed. It, 
however, emerged next day under its new title, The 
Man in Chains, and under this title appears daily in 
Paris. 

Clemenceau *s efforts, however, were continued, and 
France soon had everything in good going order. It 
was at this critical phase that the Franciscan sisters, 
and the sisters of other religious orders, quietly took 
their places beside the wounded French soldiers. Just 
as quietly they opened up their convents, churches, 
and buildings, warehouses, chateaux, cottages, railway 
waiting-rooms, and turned them into hospitals for 
the wounded and sick men. Working tirelessly night 
and day, knowing no fatigue and shrinking from 
no task or danger, and glorying in their mission, they 
performed marvels. The younger sisters were put to 
subordinate nursing duties, and so rigorously trained 
by the elder ones in the principles of nursing. 

These juniors are now very competent nurses, 
for they learn quickly amongst the ample material that 
war provides. The wounded French soldier loves and 
idolises the nursing sister. He demands her presence, 



WE LEAVE BETHUNE 225 

and makes her his confidante. The nun is supremely 
happy to be back in her old place, and pets and humours 
the wounded soldier, soothes his ardent soul, and, by 
her skill, heals his wounds. 

I do not think that any future government of 
France will ever dare to oust the religious sisters from 
the hospitals. These quiet-voiced, simple-robed women, 
carrying help and compassionate pity in the welter of 
blood and slaughter, have come " to their own " again. 

When writing of the religious orders one naturally 
thinks of the priests of France, and one of the many 
interesting and instructive evolutions taking place 
during this war is that of the changing relation of the 
people and State towards the Catholic Church. 

One has only to be a little time with the French 
troops in the field to recognise and be impressed by 
their deep attachment to the Catholic Church. I 
visited many churches in France and Belgium during 
the earlier stages of the war, and at all hours, and have 
always found, sometimes few, sometimes many, Belgian 
and French soldiers on their knees and devoutly at 
prayer in the sacred buildings. Women, of course, 
were always to be seen there, but that was not sur- 
prising. It was surprising to see so many soldiers. 

The French soldier takes his religion seriously in 
these days, and is not ashamed, whenever the oppor- 
tunity occurs, to enter a church and pray. It was 
rare to see a khaki soldier praying in church ; one often 
saw them there on visits of curiosity gazing at the old 
windows and old scroll-work of the churches. The 
15 



226 A SUEGEON IN KHAKI 

British, soldier will always attend a church parade, 
and he will be most reverent during a service, and will 
sing lustily and amen loudly ; but a church parade is to 
him very often a drill, and Tommy cheerfully attends a 
drill parade because it is his duty to. In reading 
letters from British soldiers at the front and comparing 
them with those of French soldiers one cannot help 
being struck by the religious serious note pervading 
those of the latter, and its absence in the former. It 
may be that we are less emotional than the French, 
and as a nation are shy of writing of our inner selves. 
It was my duty once to censor the letters written by 
wounded men in a Clearing Hospital at the front. The 
letters were distinctly humorous at times ; only two 
discussed matters of faith. In one a soldier was writing 
to his mother, and he said, " I pray every day as I 
promised you to. I pray standing up, and always time 
my prayer for three o'clock in the afternoon, for that 
is the time when the fellows over the way let off most 
of their big guns and rifles at us/' This man was 
either a wag and teasing his mother, or he really believed 
in the efficacy of surrounding himself with an atmo- 
sphere of prayer when the enemy fire was hottest. 
The other fervent letter was from a soldier who had 
received a slight shell wound of the scalp. His was 
a letter written to a clergyman near London. This 
warrior informed the clergyman that he prayed silently 
amongst his comrades, and daily read a passage out 
of his Testament. The letter ended up by asking 
the clergyman to send him some Woodbine cigarettes, 



WE LEAVE BETHUNE 227 

as he, the writer, hadn't had a smoke for a fortnight 
and saw no chance of getting one. I showed this 
letter to our field chaplain, who visited this Christian 
soldier in the ward. The chaplain told me afterwards 
that the man was absolutely destitute of any religious 
beliefs, and had never read a Testament in his life ; and 
furthermore — that he had three packets of Woodbine 
cigarettes, and had also smoked a considerable number 
during the past fortnight. 

French officers have told me that before the war 
it was considered bad form for a military officer to 
attend Mass, and that an officer who attended Mass 
regularly need not expect promotion in the Army. 
Attending Mass is not considered bad form to-day, and 
soldiers of all grades from general to grenadier attend 
the services in the field. Was the religious trait there 
all the time, and only held back by the conventional 
strictness, or has the seriousness of the war compelled 
a little self-analysis and a return to the faith of their 
fathers ? My impression is that the priests and the 
nursing sisters of the religious orders have helped to 
stir up this present state amongst a people who have 
always been, deep down, much attached to their Church 
and its religious observances. Even the Reign of 
Terror could not stamp out the influence of the Church 
in France, although it turned churches into meat marts 
and blacksmiths' forges, and plastered their walls with 
" Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite." The French priest has 
no official status in the State. He is simply a citizen, 
and is liable, like all other citizens, to be mobilised for 



228 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

military duty. Over 20,000 French priests and brothers 
of various orders are serving with the French colours 
in this war. I have spoken to French priests about 
this law that compels them to serve as soldiers. They 
do not cavil at it, and, in fact, prefer to act the patriot's 
part, for the priest is every bit a good Frenchman. 
Be the priest a simple soldier in the trenches, with 
battery, commissariat, ammunition, or brancardiers, he 
is nevertheless still a priest, and is at all times ready 
and eager to exercise his priestly duties. He has 
proved himself time and time again to be a cool, intrepid, 
and reliable soldier, and he has also proved himself 
in the hour of trial a comfort and spiritual help to those 
about to die. One has heard of hundreds of instances 
in this war when the priest, serving as soldier in the 
ranks, has conducted Mass in some broken-down 
cottage or barn in the firing zone, buried his dead 
comrades with the rites of the Church, and carried 
out the last offices to the dying. One of the ablest of 
the French artillery officers, now in charge of a battery, 
is a priest, and in times of peace is a well-known Abbe 
and writer on theology. Another learned Abbe and 
a great preacher was mobilised in July, and was badly 
wounded at Charier oi. When lying stricken on the 
ground he heard a mortally wounded soldier calling 
him. The Abbe painfully crawled to the dying soldier 
and administered the last office, and while doing so 
was again wounded. He was later on conveyed by 
hospital train to Paris. President Poincare had heard 
the story, and met the train on its arrival in Paris. He 



WE LEAVE BETHUNE 229 

went into the carriage where lay the badly wounded 
and apparently dying Abbe, and decorated him with the 
Legion d'Honneur. I am glad to say that the Abbe, 
although now a cripple, recovered from his wounds. 

The Aumonier to the French Hospital at Bethune 
was a very fine priest. He was not mobilised as a 
soldier owing to defective vision, but he acted as priest 
and as a stretcher-bearer to the hospital. His life- 
long friend, another priest and lecturer on Natural 
History at the College at Bethune, was fighting as a 
private in the Argonne. One day the Abbe told me 
that he had received a letter from his friend describing 
his life in the trenches, saying, " I live the life of a 
rabbit. I live in a hole in the ground. At night I 
come out to feed." 

A few days after this the Abbe heard that his friend 
was killed — shot dead through the head. When the 
Abbe told me of this I murmured the usual, " Hard 
luck." 

" No," said the Abbe, becoming very serious. " It 
is not what you call the Hard Luck. It is the good 
luck. It is how a good priest would wish to die." 

It has been asked many times during this war, 
" What is Christianity doing after the past 1900 years ?" 
and many have answered, " Crucified men and women. 
Mutilitated prisoners of war. Outraged women and 
slaughtered children. Cities and towns in ashes. 
Misery, tears, and the moaning of millions." If this is 
the indictment, it is not against Christianity, but 
against one people only, that of Lutheran Germany. 



230 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

But these hellish deeds of " Christian " Germany have 
but served to bring more clearly and brightly into view 
the Christian spirit of other peoples' brotherliness, 
help for the distressed, and that 

" Kindness in another's trouble, 
Courage in your own." 

The Belgian and French soldiers fighting at first to 
defend their homes, their women, and their children 
and old men, and fighting now for vengeance to punish 
the bloody invaders, are examples of a good, healthy 
Christianity. 

The open, warm welcome of France and England 
to the Belgian refugees, the colossal funds for the 
alleviation of distress, and helping of the wounded and 
the sick, show that the " greatest of these," Charity, is 
not yet dead on the earth. 

Our definition of " Christianity " depends upon the 
point of view. To me the Turco and the Gurkha are 
very good Christians and the German nation is infidel. 
Every General Order issued by the Kaiser ends not with 
an appeal to the Almighty, but with an affirmation 
that God is fighting for the German cause. 

The Saxons and Bavarians will sack a town and 
inflict nameless horrors on helpless civilians, shoot old 
men for sport, kill children, torture women, commit 
sacrilege in the churches, smash altars and relics, 
destroy historic and beautiful windows and treasures 
of art, bayonet priests, violate shrieking nuns, and 
with hands smeared in blood they will at the word of 
command praise their German God. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 
OVER THE BELGIAN FRONTIER. 

Our Clearing Hospital remained at Chocques for four 
or five days, and while here had a fair, but not a large, 
number of wounded. These were quickly sent off by 
hospital trains, which pulled on to a siding not far from 
us. The Indian Clearing Hospital was now also estab- 
lishing itself in the small town, and the Indian hospital 
assistants were a source of great and wondering curiosity 
to the small boys and girls. Our Clearing Hospital 
was now ordered to a place farther north, and as I 
had only been temporarily attached to it during a 
time of great rush at Bethune, my place was now with 
my own Field Ambulance at the front, and some- 
where near the Belgian frontier. 

A motor-car going to Hazebrouck gave me a lift 
as far as there, and another driver brought me to 
Bailleul. Here, after I had reported my arrival, 
Surgeon-General Porter informed me of the exact 
location of my ambulance. 

Bailleul is a town of considerable importance in 
the north of France, and has been the object of many 
visits from Taubes, a sure indication that there must 
be a church or a hospital in Bailleul. The church 



232 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

and the hospital were very close together, and the 
Taubes made many a gallant attempt to get them both. 
One evening one of them got the hospital — a bomb fell 
fair on the roof and into a ward full of wounded men, 
killing two and wounding again a man already grievously 
wounded. The old church has so far escaped. The 
square at Bailleul near the church was a busy place in 
those days, as the town was a Divisional Headquarters 
and a corps " poste commandement/' and where there 
are headquarters and " brass hats " there also are many 
rank and file. It was here that, some weeks later, 
I saw that fine battalion, the Liverpool Scottish, parade 
in the street and march out to the trenches. They 
were standing on parade in the street for about twenty 
minutes before moving off and the day was bitterly 
cold. The bare knees of the men looked blue and the 
kilt did not impress us as a good winter dress. Why 
Highlanders choose to expose their knees is quite beyond 
me. The knee joint is a big and complex anatomical 
structure, and is easily affected by sudden changes of 
temperature, so why cover up every other joint in the 
body and leave this bare ? 

Greatly daring though the ladies are to-day in 
their draping arrangements, they do not dare to walk 
about with bare knees. What prevents them must 
certainly be their appreciation of the delicacy of 
this joint — the delicate mechanism of an important 
articulation. 

Twenty years hence, veterans of the Liverpool 
Scottish will tell their children how they got rheumatism 



OVER THE BELGIAN FRONTIER 233 

in their knee joints from the cold mud of the Flanders 
trenches in the year of our Lord 1914. 

I left Bailleul on a Red-Cross Wolseley car driven 
by a queer character who used to be with us on the 
Aisne doing transport work. He was thought to have 
been killed and duly buried, and I was therefore agree- 
ably surprised to see my odd friend again. He was a 
wonderfully cheery pessimist. He usually had a long 
budget of most depressing news, of disasters by flood 
and field, and great disappointments, but he envisaged 
them all with a rosy hue and predicted a great to- 
morrow. He did not like the war, for although it had 
not changed his occupation — that of a chauffeur — it 
had seriously affected his emoluments. In the piping 
times of peace he would take small parties on touring 
journeys in France, Germany, and Switzerland — some- 
times a honeymoon couple, sometimes an American 
millionaire, and he did exceedingly well in tips. 

We had a rough passage up from Bailleul and were 
twice bogged in the mud beside the road, and had twice 
to be hauled out. The roads here, and right over the 
frontier into southern Belgium, were very bad in these 
days. Our men, when on the Aisne, said many hard 
words about the mud there, but the Aisne was an 
asphalt path compared with Belgium. 

However, we slowly squelched and skidded our 
way over the Belgian frontier and reached Ouderdom, 
not very far from Ypres. For the last few miles we 
had been following Napoleon's maxim to his Marshals : 
" Marching on the sound of the guns." The heavy 



234 A SUBGEON IN KHAKI 

artillery, French, British, and German, was making a 
deafening roar. 

This really completed the journey from the Aisne 
to Flanders. We were at our " farthest north," and 
this journey impressed one with the length of the 
huge battle-line, although it only embraced, after all, 
a part of the great whole. From Switzerland to the 
Channel stretched a wavy line of trenches, across plains, 
spanning canals, through and around swamps, in front 
of great cities and small villages, traversing great forests 
and over mountain passes and peaks. At one end 
submerged country flooded by Alpine snow, sand dunes 
at the other ; and in these trenches lined with soldiers, 
and swept by artillery, stern fighting was going on over 
practically every mile. 

Our ambulance headquarters was about the most 
God-forsaken place that one could possibly imagine. 
The first impression one received was a dirty pond, full 
of fetid water and surrounded by heaped-up straw 
manure. The Belgian, like the Frenchman, loves to 
have a manure heap at his front door. Closely abutting 
on this putrefactive manure was the cottage itself, 
with one front room, a small side-room or box off this 
front room, a kitchen, a bedroom, and another box at 
the back. From the kitchen a rickety stair led up to 
a windy loft full of corn and hops and bags of potatoes. 

Next the living quarters and part of the house came 
stalls for cattle, and the tout ensemble was unlovely 
and smelly. Twelve medical officers, two chaplains, 
and a quartermaster lived in the tiny little front room, 



OVEB THE BELGIAN FRONTIER 235 

or crowded round a table in it. When the table was in 
the room there was barely space to pass between it and 
the wall. Six or seven officers slept on the floor of this 
den at night, and in the morning had to rise early, roll 
up their valises and pack them round the wall. The 
O.C. and a chaplain slept in the box off our only room, 
and the rest of us slept in the loft amidst the wheat 
and hops and the bitter cold draughts. 

Our cooks lived, smoked, worked, and slept in the 
kitchen, and this apartment Madame invaded during 
the day to do her domestic cooking. Madame " with 
the terrible voice " gave our cooks a bad time, and 
frequently chased them out and took their pots and pans 
off the fire, utterly disorganising our meals. 

Madame was not popular, and in my dreams I some- 
times still hear her raucous voice. 

The Flemish farmer, the proud owner of this very 
dirty and uninviting farm, had a family of three little 
children, and was besides the humble husband of the 
lady whose voice was more terrifying than the screech 
of bursting shrapnel. 

Poor Madame, she did not look kindly on us, and we 
never even saw her smile — except once, and that story 
comes later. 

At 4 a.m. her strident, penetrating tones would 
fill the cottage and wake us all to a world of cold and 
discomfort, of greasy bacon, muddy tea, and sodden 
mousy bread. 

She was watchful and suspicious of our men, who 
slept with the poultry in the surrounding stables and 



236 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

out-houses, and openly accused them of stealing her 
straw. 

What they could do with the straw after having 
stolen it Madame did not choose to say — perhaps she 
thought that they ate it ! 

We met many Flemish besides Madame and her 
family at this time, and although we sympathised 
greatly with them, we could not bring ourselves to like 
them. It was all so different with the French, whom we 
liked and who liked us. The Flemings did not seem to 
care for us ; they certainly never made us any demonstra- 
tions of affection. Perhaps it was the difference in 
tongue. They spoke French with an Irish-Dutch 
brogue, and our accent was, of course, a pure Anglo- 
Parisian. 

French officers told us here that they did not like the 
Flemings, and that the Flemings were not cordial with 
them. Belgian officers, it is well known, do not see 
eye to eye with the French officers, but pull amazingly 
well with the British, to whom they are warm and com- 
municative. 

Tommy Atkins as a rule likes every one, but he neither 
understood nor cared for the Flemings. This was quite 
noticeable. We found those round Ouderdom, Ypres, 
and Dickebusch sullen, dour, and suspicious. We were 
not welcomed, and their surly, heavy manner towards 
us was very apparent. There was no responsiveness, no 
gaiete de cceur, no cheerfulness. 

Historical traditions and the likes and hates of 
centuries die hard. The Flemings and the English had 



OVER THE BELGIAN FRONTIER 237 

often been friends in the past, but the French and Flem- 
ings had always been on opposite sides of the fence, and 
whenever the French came into the Flemish garden it 
was to fight, and not to play. 

We wondered if Madame of our cottage knew her 
Belgian history. We were quite sure that she would 
have been more amiable and sweet had she known that 
Flanders had been England's ally in the Hundred Years' 
War, and that the bowmen of Mons were more than 
once ranged on England's side ; that Baldwin n., 
Count of Flanders, a former ruler of the land where 
stood Madame 's farm, was a son-in-law of Alfred the 
Great of England, and that Baldwin v., also a Count of 
Flanders, was father-in-law to William the Conqueror, 
and fitted out Flemish ships to convey Flemish men 
to Pevensey to kill Harold's Anglo-Saxons. 

The Flemings have long memories about the French, 
and never forget the " Battle of the Spurs " or the 
" Battle of Roosebeke," for in these two epoch-making 
battles the French were the enemy. 

The manifesto issued by the King of the Belgians 
to his people at the beginning of the war in August cited 
the Battle of the Spurs fought at Courtrai. At this 
famous encounter, a band of Flemish artisans and 
citizens, armed with billhooks, axes, and scythes, attacked 
with the maddest fury a disciplined French army of 
steel-clad knights and men-at-arms and utterly defeated 
it. This battle reference was hardly quite happy when 
Jofrre was hurrying his Army Corps over the frontier 
to Namur. 



238 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

At Roosebeke, in 1382, the French met another 
citizen army under Philip van Artevelde, and slew him 
and twenty-five thousand men. It is said that Flemish 
fathers and mothers handed down this bitter tale to their 
children for three centuries, and in later years told of 
Cassel, Ramillies, Oudenarde, Malplaquet, Jemappes, 
and Waterloo — all glaring instances of French turbulence 
on peaceful Flanders land. So the Flemings were dis- 
trustful always of the Gallic cock, and had apparently 
forgotten about their connection with our Alfred the 
Great and our William of Normandy. 

During our occupation of this mean farmhouse, 
situated behind its Flemish manure heap, the weather 
was bitingly cold. The rain of the first week was 
succeeded by a heavy snow and frost, and as we had no 
fire of any sort and were not able to take much physical 
exercise, we were all day and night chilled to our very 
marrow. 

November 1914 in Flanders will be remembered 
by many thousands of Englishmen as a month of intense 
and bitter cold, when to the dangers and ever-present 
death of the trenches were added the miseries and 
tortures of frostbitten feet and legs, and a merciless 
cutting wind. This was the period when men, stiffened 
and paralysed with cold, had to be pulled out of the 
trenches and dragged or carried to the rear to bring 
back a slowing circulation to the affected limbs. This 
was also the period when men could not be spared 
from the firing line, when the Germans were making 
those formidable rushes in strong columns, and leaving 



OVER THE BELGIAN FRONTIER 239 

thousands of dead to mark the place where the rush 
had been stayed and the column crumpled up. 

The little town of Dickebusch was on the road to our 
left, and through it ran a highway to Ypres. Where 
the road turned to the right into Ypres was an advanced 
station of a Field Ambulance, and, as one of the medical 
officers of it was known to me, I walked along this 
highway one morning in order to hear the latest news. 
He was always a very safe man to call upon for news, 
for what he did not know authentically, he would 
invent. The road to this advanced station lay behind 
several batteries of French " seventy-fives/' the pride 
and glory of the French gunner. The road was quite 
close to these guns, but they were so wonderfully 
concealed with straw and branches of trees that an 
ordinary traveller would have passed them by until 
their presence was indicated by their mighty roar. 
The gunners were hard at it this morning, pouring an 
unending string of bursting shells on the German 
positions, and the din was terrible. 

Suddenly the Germans got the range of the road. 
One shell burst far in front of me on the road, and one 
far behind about the same moment, and a bolt for cover 
was the immediate sequence. I got into a dug-out 
behind some French guns and then witnessed a wonder- 
ful display of artillery practice. Shell after shell fell 
with marvellous precision up and down the road, and 
one followed the other with a lightning speed. The 
road was excavated with volcanic craters, of flying stones 
and earth clouds, and mighty showers of debris were 



240 A SUKGEON IN KHAKI 

sprayed tumultuously on every side. A French officer 
pointed out where the next shell would land ; and he 
was always right — he knew the " general idea " possess- 
ing the mind of the German gunner, and correctly 
surmised that after the road had been systematically 
covered, the firing would cease. It was a big waste 
of ammunition, for nothing was damaged except the 
road, and the French gunners, as soon as the firing was 
over, ran to their pet " seventy-fives " and opened 
furiously back in order to show that their bark was as 
good as ever. The French batteries at this particular 
place did enormous damage to the Germans in their 
attacks south of Ypres, and as they are no longer at 
this roadside but somewhere farther on, no valuable 
information is being given away in relating the fact. 

The French gunners, both at this critical phase of 
the war and on the Aisne, were wonderful fellows. 
Night and day, in rain, hail, sleet, or snow, their great 
guns never stopped. In the blackest night and in 
howling gales of sleety wind they could be heard near 
by and in the far distance, for ever pounding into the 
enemy. This policy of continuous fire is wonderfully 
heartening to the French troops in the trenches, and 
the moral effect is tremendous. On the Aisne the 
French guns were always busy, but the British, alas, 
were generally silent. I have heard men on the Aisne 
pathetically say, " Why don't our guns fire V ' Why 
don't they reply to the German fire % " and the question- 
ing was not confined to soldiers, for it was a common 
topic of conversation amongst officers. On the Aisne 



OVER THE BELGIAN FRONTIER 241 

we did not have enough artillery, and we had not 
enough ammunition for the artillery we did have. It 
was the same at this period at Ypres. England, the 
greatest engineering country of the world, the richest 
and most prosperous Empire of this or any other 
time, made a very poor showing on the Continent. 
Small as our army was, it was not equipped perfectly. 
Our army in France may have been the " best shooting 
army," but if so it was with the rifle. In artillery we 
were entirely outclassed by the Germans and put to 
eternal shame by the French. On the Aisne the 
Germans had big 8-inch howitzers and we had 
nothing to meet them. Against the guns that had 
battered the forts of Maubeuge and crumpled up 
Namur what had we to offer ? Nothing. The Ger- 
mans had an unlimited supply of machine-guns on the 
Aisne and the Yser, and we had a paltry few. We 
were short of ammunition, but the Germans and the 
French had plenty. 

When we required high explosive shells to beat 
down entrenchments and trenches we had nothing but 
shrapnel, which was absolutely useless for this purpose. 
Because shrapnel was effective in the South African 
War and high explosives unnecessary there, it was 
concluded that the same set of circumstances would 
be repeated in France and Belgium. 

In September 1914 I saw the four 6-inch howitzer 

batteries arrive on the Aisne from England, and the 

news of their arrival spread like wildfire amongst our 

men, who thought that at last " mighty England was 

16 



242 A SUKGEON IN KHAKI 

sending mighty guns." They were mighty guns right 
enough, but there was not enough ammunition sent 
with them. As a nation we always muddle through, 
but it is rather pitiful to think that muddles mean the 
death of many brave men, and that our woeful lack 
of big guns and ammunition has meant many British 
graves in France and Flanders. 

A ride through Ypres at this time was an interesting 
and exciting affair — interesting from the historic 
associations of the old Flemish capital, and exciting 
from the German " Black Marias " falling about. The 
old Cloth Hall was then still standing — only one corner 
and a door had been battered about, but Ypres itself 
was very mournful and desolate. A bombarded town, 
empty of all its people and with ruins all round where 
once was industry, wealth, and moving crowds, presents 
a very sad spectacle. I suppose Ypres, stormy as 
her history has been in the past, had never been so 
empty before. At one time 200,000 people were said 
to have lived in Ypres. That was in the days of her 
splendour as the ancient capital of Flanders, when 
the wonderful Cloth Hall was built by the cloth- 
workers of the thirteenth century, in that turbulent 
epoch when citizens and workpeople were fighting 
down and curbing the old feudal tyranny — for it was 
in Belgium that the common people established the 
first free city north of the Alps. 

On the ride through this famous old city to our 
positions beyond, the terrible evidences of the German 
bombardment surrounded one in monumental im- 



OVER THE BELGIAN FRONTIER 243 

pressiveness. Dead horses were lying in coagulated 
pools of blood in every street. Whole rows of old, 
closely-built Spanish and Flemish houses and shops 
were crumbled and shattered. The fane was ripped, 
torn, and covered with window glass shattered into 
millions of fine fragments ; roofs had disappeared from 
some houses, and walls blown out of others. Tumbled 
masonry, smoking ashes, and excavated, torn-up road- 
ways — all bore witness to the terrible character of the 
first German bombardment. 

In one tobacconist's shop in the square, just 
opposite the Cloth Hall, the large plate-glass window had 
been completely destroyed, but the shop stood other- 
wise uninjured and intact. One could easily have 
taken boxes of cigars and pipes by simply putting a 
hand through the window-frame in passing, but although 
the temptation was there, not one cigar was touched 
by a British soldier. Imagine the genial Saxon or the 
crucifying Bavarian letting such a chance slip ! 

I got off my horse and led it through the street, as 
it clearly did not like passing the dead horses on the 
roadway. After having tied it to a street-post in front 
of a fair-sized hotel or estaminet, I walked into the 
front bar-parlour, which was open to the street. The 
evidences of a hasty exit were ludicrously patent. A 
half-emptied glass of beer and a full one stood close 
together on the bar counter, and near them lay a good 
pipe full of tobacco which had not been lighted. On 
a small table in a corner of the cafe was a tray with 
two large empty clean glasses ; on the same table stood 



244 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

a bottle of red wine, and close beside it a corkscrew, 
holding the impaled extracted cork. One light chair 
near this table lay overturned on the floor ; the other 
had been hastily drawn back, as was shown by the 
tracks on the sawdust floor. I thought of Pompeii 
when old Vesuvius belched ashes and molten lava and 
buried the gay Roman pleasure-city as it stood. The 
Pompeian wine-bibbers and " mine host " could not 
escape from that engulfing darkness and the fiery cinders, 
and perforce died nobly standing by their bottles. 
But in that drinking-room at Ypres there was no dying 
the death beside the beer and the good red wine. 
No Sherlock Holmes was necessary to reconstruct the 
picture — the two cronies drinking their morning ale 
at the bar, and the two comfortable Yprian burghers 
waiting for the filling of their glasses from the bottle 
just uncorked, the burly " mine host " in white apron 
and with bottle in hand — all suddenly electrified by a 
sinister whistling overhead, and then the mighty explo- 
sion, the roar of falling masonry, the smashing of 
hundreds of window-panes, the concussion of air ; then 
another earthquake smash, and then another, till the 
house and street were rocking with the shocks. This 
was no time to light a pipe, to drink amber beer and 
ruddy wine. It was time to get out of Ypres. So 
down went the forgotten pipe and bottle, back went 
the chairs, and out streamed our terrified quintet to 
the tormented street, leaving the room and its contents 
as I saw it. 

On approaching the bridge on the far side of the 



OVEE THE BELGIAN FRONTIER 245 

town I saw the only remaining inhabitant. This was 
a middle-aged woman with a grey shawl over her head 
and shoulders, and she was looking out of a window 
of a partly shattered house. I felt sorry for her, she 
looked so very lonely in that broken house. 

That afternoon she was arrested by the Belgians 
as a spy. My compassion had been utterly thrown 
away. 

Near this same bridge on another occasion my 
arrival was providential. An Army Service Corps driver 
was speeding his motor towards the city when he was 
struck by enemy shrapnel. He had just sufficient 
strength to stop his lorry before fainting from the 
shock and the rush of blood from a grievous wound of 
the right thigh. Blood was pumping out of the wound, 
and it appeared as if the femoral artery had been torn. 
Fortunately it was not, and we were soon able to control 
the haemorrhage, put the wounded man on his lorry, 
and drive him back to one of the ambulance stations in 
a cottage near the roadside. 

The road from Ypres to our trenches was a busy 
but pathetic highway — busy with marching men, 
waggons, gallopers, generals, and staff officers, and 
pathetic from the many graves and small graveyards 
near the roadside and the many full ambulance waggons 
rumbling along on the uneven, jolty pave. 

The road was frequently visited with enemy shells, 
and no one travelled along it unless on business. " Tres- 
passers will be prosecuted " was an unnecessary injunc- 
tion on the Ypres roads, 



246 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

The headquarter staff of the 15th Brigade beyond 
Ypres had a narrow escape one morning. A big shell 
burst in the grounds of the chateau occupied by the 
Brigadier and his staff. The staff, who were in the 
building at the time, went out to look at the hole it 
had made. Whilst looking at the pit, another shell 
landed on the chateau itself and burst into the room 
just vacated by them. A soldier servant was killed and 
one staff officer was wounded. 

An advanced ambulance station, with wounded men 
and medical officers in it, was struck fairly by another 
shell and badly holed, causing loss of life. No place 
was safe from these long bowls of the enemy, and 
though artillery practice of this sort may not be of 
much military importance, it yet produces an air of 
uncertainty and caution and jumpiness. 

The country surrounding Ypres and Ypres itself 
were very dismal. The old elm trees on the roads, and 
the silent, deserted streets were shrouded in a ghostly 
veil of melancholy. 

On a subsequent visit to the site of the old Cloth Hall 
one saw little more than ruins, for the famous building 
had in the interval been correctly ranged by the enemy 
guns and duly shattered. Later on more destruction 
took place, and visitors of the year 2015 will be shown 
some stones and broken pillars, all that was left of a 
famous hall which had stood for seven centuries and 
had been destroyed " one hundred years ago/* 

When peace comes again to Belgium, Ypres and 
its roads, its Hill 60 and its graves will be a place of 



OVER THE BELGIAN FRONTIER 247 

holy pilgrimage to thousands of English, French, and 
Germans, for here fell and are buried their bravest 
dead. 

But the curious tripper and the Cook's tourist had 
better keep away from Ypres. Let the friends of the 
dead and the quiet country folk have the land in their 
possession for a season. 

The railway station at Vlamertinge, near Ypres, 
frequently had a very fine armoured train in its sidings. 
The train was manned by Jack Tars with naval guns, 
and the engine and car looked very attractive in a 
wonderful coat of futurist colours — splashes of green 
and khaki and brown. This H.M.S Chameleon was a 
very good cruiser and very nippy in moving across 
country. The sailors were very cheerful and seemed 
to like their ship amazingly. 

On the roads near our headquarters running from 
Renninghelst to Vlamertinge, and hence along the main 
highway to Ypres, a large number of Belgian soldiers 
were at work repairing the pave and widening the road 
surface by laying prepared trunks of trees laid closely 
together in the mud at the sides. They were 
fine sturdy men and full of life and cheerfulness, a 
different type altogether from the countryfolk we met 
in the farms. These were the men who had fought 
from Liege to the Yser, and were still on Belgian soil. 
They were very bitter about the Germans. They said 
that they asked for no quarter and would give none in 
the fighting. 

These Belgians on the roads were men who had 



248 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

been temporarily sent back to " recuperate," and while 
at this work they enjoyed good food, warm quarters, 
and sleep. At eleven o'clock every morning a very fine 
motor kitchen would pass along the road. Each man 
had his canteen ready, the cook ladled out to him 
a good helping of mashed potatoes, boiled mutton, and 
thick gravy, and another cook handed him a big 
chunk of white bread. It was all done very ex- 
peditiously and in good order. After getting his share 
each man would sit on his rolled-up overcoat on the 
roadside and spoon the mutton and potatoes into his 
mouth with the bread. Knives and forks and spoons, 
after all, are really only luxuries. 

The roads were in a frightful state during these 
November weeks. The narrow pave was full of ruts, 
deep and dangerous, and skirted on either side by a 
slope of boggy quagmire churned up by the wheels of 
hundreds of heavy motor transports, and beyond this 
again on either side was a deep ditch. 

Any skidding motor would land in the ditch, and 
the righting of these embedded cars was at times a 
titanic task, productive of much loss of temper and 
bad language. 

The narrow pave would not permit of two vehicles 
crossing abreast, and when two met, neither wished to 
surrender the " crown of the causeway." It was a 
point of honour not to budge and to wear down the 
other side by abusive epithets. Uncle Toby used to 
say that our army swore horribly in Flanders, but the 
swearing in Toby's day was not a patch on the rich 



OVER THE BELGIAN FRONTIER 249 

vocabulary and full-blooded oaths of our London taxi- 
drivers in Flanders in 1914. 

The London taxi-driver, always eloquent, reached 
his highest nights when addressing the quivering 
blancmange-like mud of a Belgian road. 

I have seen old French non-commissioned officers 
who probably did not know a single word of what was 
said on these occasions, but who envisaged the situation 
perfectly, stand by with approving and admiring faces 
while the driver was embracing in his comprehensive 
abuse all things living and dead, the heavens above, 
the earth beneath, and the waters under the earth. 

At Ouderdom we met Alphonse, soldier of France. 
Two medical officers were one morning sipping some 
red wine in an estaminet in the village when in swaggered 
a very small French soldier. 

He had a boy's face and figure and voice, but bore 
the assured manner of a man of the world. He was 
small even for a French boy. A carbine was swung 
across his back, and his belt carried a bayonet and 
cartridges. He wore the French blue overcoat with 
the ends tucked up in the approved style and with the 
buttons polished and bright . His little legs were encased 
in the familiar red trousers tucked into heavy boots 
several sizes too large for him, and his kepi was placed 
on his small, closely cropped head at a jaunty angle. 
Such was Alphonse, the complete soldier of France, full 
private in a famous Parisian rifle battalion. 

Alphonse swaggered into the cafe, ordered his glass 
of red wine with the sang-froid and assurance of a 



250 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

veteran grenadier, and tossed it off as easily as a 
Falstafi. 

" How old are you, Alphonse ? " " But fourteen 
years, mon officier." " Have you killed many Ger- 
mans ? " " But yes, perhaps thirteen, perhaps fifteen ; 
who can tell when one is fighting every day ? But 
certainly I kill many Bosches." " And with what did 
you kill them, Alphonse %" " Avec mon carabine " — 
this with a smack of his hand on the barrel of the gun. 
A smart soldierly salute, and our gallant killer of thir- 
teen, perhaps fifteen, peaceful, amiable German soldiers 
strode out of the cafe. 

A corporal of Alphonse's regiment told us that at 
the beginning of the war Alphonse was a young devil 
of a gamin in Paris. In his leisure moments he sold 
newspapers in the streets, and in his working hours he 
was up to some devilry. 

When this regiment marched out of Paris towards 
the frontier Alphonse marched alongside it, a bright- 
eyed, hopeful, cheerful youth clad in ragged clothes and 
down-at-heel boots. He was told to go home, but said 
that he had no home and was going instead to kill 
Germans. So in the good French way the regiment 
adopted Alphonse, gave him a uniform and a gun, and 
a new pair of boots, and took him on the strength. 

The little gamin turned out a very cunning soldier. 
He was a dead shot, and the corporal assured us 
that he had accounted for a good many of the enemy. 
At night Alphonse would crawl out of the trenches and 
scout well into the enemy lines. Frequently he brought 



OVEE THE BELGIAN FRONTIER 251 

back valuable information of preparations for a German 
surprise attack. He was so small and so cute that he 
escaped observation. 

In December Alphonse was presented to President 
Poincare on one of his many visits to the French front, 
and the President promised him a commission and the 
Legion d'Honneur when he should reach the age of 
twenty-one years. I have grave fears for the gallant, 
snub-nosed, blue-eyed Alphonse, young in years but 
old in sin. He is already too fond of the rich red wine 
of France, and scouting at night inside the enemy lines 
is a duty full of peril. But Alphonse can teach a 
lesson in patriotism that many a flower-socked, straw- 
hatted knut on a London promenade would do well to 
learn. 

The Flemings are very devout Catholics, perhaps 
the most Catholic of all peoples to-day; so our am- 
bulance was given the hall-mark of respectability 
because we had with it a Monsignor, The presence of 
a Catholic prelate with our ambulance, distinguished 
it in a notable degree from all other ambulances, and 
we tried to live up to our presumed reputation. 

Whenever Monsignor appeared on the roads near 
Ouderdom the Belgian soldiers would immediately 
stop work and, carrying their pickaxes and shovels, 
crowd round him for a talk and the latest news. Mon- 
signor was a good linguist and a cheerful optimist, 
and never handed on any bad news to the soldiers. 
One morning he was asked for news, and appealed to 
me what to say. We told them that the Russians had 



252 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

another victory, and that the German dead could be 
counted by thousands. This was very palatable and 
thoroughly appreciated. We were not asked to give 
any details of the victory, which was perhaps fortunate. 

Monsignor would sometimes walk along this road 
with his hands behind his back and with two or three 
cigarettes sticking out prominently from between his 
fingers. The Belgian soldiers would then stalk after 
him, with broad grins on their faces, and pull away a 
cigarette. Monsignor never looked behind. That 
would not be playing the game at all, but his eyes would 
twinkle, and I have no doubt whatever that he hugely 
enjoyed the fun. 

There were days when Monsignor had a wardrobe con- 
sisting of but one shirt and one pair of trousers — the 
other articles of apparel had all been given away. Then 
he would begin again to collect mufflers and socks when 
supplies came in, and hand them out almost immediately 
to some poor devils who had nothing. If our chaplain 
appeared any day to be more cheerful than usual, one 
could make quite sure that he had just given away his 
boots or his shirt or his towel to some poor French, 
Belgian, or British Tommy. , The only thing he kept a 
tight hold on was his toothbrush. 

One day Monsignor appeared with a cardboard box 
in his hand and told us that he was going to Renning- 
helst, a small town about two miles from our head- 
quarters. Lieutenant X and myself asked leave 

to accompany him. We had to ask permission, for 
Monsignor was a senior chaplain and a lieutenant- 



OVER THE BELGIAN FRONTIER 253 

colonel in rank, although he never said anything about 
that. We discovered it accidentally. Being a colonel 
interested him only in a vague impersonal sort of way. 
He told us once that a soldier is diffident and shy before 
a colonel, but is natural and communicative to his 
minister or priest who is not flagged and starred. 

On this lovely winter morning, when the whole 
countryside was white with frozen snow, we had a 
sharp bracing walk to the curious old town, then the 

headquarters of General B and his staff of a French 

Division. The village streets were packed full of 
French and Belgian soldiery, from Spahis to Alpine 
Chasseurs. We worked our way round the carts and 
through the jostling men to a little shop opposite the 
church. Monsignor was hailed joyfully by many of his 
old friends, who on this particular morning were not 
working on the roads. 

The mystery of the cardboard box was then un- 
ravelled, for after cutting the string and throwing away 
the cover we saw that it was full of small religious 
medals and scapularies. There was a big rush for the 
medals, and we were all squeezed up together by the 
pressing soldiers, hundreds of whom were holding their 
grimy paws out for the metal discs. As Monsignor was 
hard at work I took a hand also and helped in the 
distribution. At last all were gone. Hundreds more 
men had come up with hands out, but had to leave 
unsatisfied. I asked Monsignor if the medals lost any 
virtue by having been handed out by me, a Protestant. 
He assured me that it was all right, as the Belgians 



254 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

and French must have thought I was a good 
Catholic. 

Every Field Ambulance has two chaplains attached 
to it. Ours had a Church of England one and a Roman 
Catholic. Another ambulance would have perhaps a 
Wesleyan and a Catholic, or a Presbyterian and an 
Anglican. These chaplains were not designed for the 
spiritual needs of the ambulance men, but as each 
ambulance kept in touch with a brigade consisting of 
four battalions, the chaplain could also, by being 
with the ambulance headquarters, keep in touch with 
the brigade, and could also meet the wounded brought 
in from that brigade, administer the rites of the Church 
to those requiring it, and bury the dead. The chaplains 
did not restrict themselves to the men of their own 
faith, but helped and worked all they knew for all. 
After all, an ambulance station full of wounded men 
is not the place for religious exercises, and a wise 
chaplain helped in making the men as comfortable as 
possible, bringing round soup, taking off boots, dis- 
tributing cigarettes and tobacco, writing letters and 
" gossiping " — the wounded like some one to talk to 
them and to talk to, and the chaplains could make a 
" cheery atmosphere " even in such a gloomy place as a 
barn full of recently wounded men. Most of the 
chaplains had a good sense of proportion. Some had 
not. One bleak, miserable day, I saw a well-meaning but 
mournful chaplain go up to a lorry full of wounded 
men packed close together on the straw, uncomfortable 
and shivering and miserable. He handed to each 



OVER THE BELGIAN FRONTIER 255 

}f them a small religious tract exhorting him to read it. 
The men took them with a polite " Thank you, 
dr/' but their faces displayed no enthusiasm. This 
was not the time for tracts. Shortly afterwards 
another chaplain, a man of the world, came up to the 
lorry with a " Cheer up, boys. You'll soon be in warm 
comfortable quarters. Have you any smokes ? " The 
men had none, and out came a dozen packets of 
Woodbine cigarettes from the chaplain's pockets and 
two boxes of matches. The expression on the men's 
faces altered at once. The atmosphere had altered, the 
sense of proportion had been restored. 

Men in hospital like to hear good news. I knew 
one chaplain who managed never to go into a room full 
of wounded and sick men without bringing some cheery 
report for everybody. He never actually fabricated 
news, but he had a wonderful gift of exaggeration. 
If we were in the same position, we had " held the line 
against incredible odds." If the French had taken an 
enemy trench, " they had driven a wedge into the 
German position and produced consternation." If 
Russian cavalry had made a reconnaissance in the 
Masurian Lakes, " they were sweeping like locusts all 
over East Prussia, and had set fire to the Kaiser's 
favourite hunting-lodge." 

The men never inquired about details, general 
statements were quite good enough. 

This was better than telling men that the " war 
would be a terribly long one ; that we would have 
to make great sacrifices ; but, please God, we would win 



256 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

in the end." I have heard a chaplain talk like this to 
wounded men, and I knew that he " wasn't delivering 
the right goods." 

Kenninghelst is a large village, or rather a very 
small town. It is situated close to the Franco-Belgian 
frontier, and at this period was of importance as an 
ambulance centre for wounded French and Belgians 
who were occupying the line of trenches in the front. 
The country all round is real Flanders land — flat, 
low-lying, damp, and uninviting. The renowned Mont 
de Cats can be seen from it, and round this mont 
some hard fighting was taking place. The old village 
has a queer Dutch-looking church with a closely packed 
graveyard around it, planted thickly with stone and 
iron crosses to the memory of ancient departed burghers, 
whose Flemish-Dutch names are inscribed there to 
commemorate their ages and their virtues. Eighty, 
eighty-five, and ninety seemed to be the usual age of 
these old burghers for slipping off this mortal coil in 
this quiet sleepy old place in Southern Belgium. There 
are many new graves now round the Renninghelst 
countryside, and they are for men who have died 
young, suddenly, and in the springtime of their days. 
The interior of this old Flemish church is lofty, and 
has little in the way of adornment, for there are no 
millionaires in its congregation to give great stained- 
glass windows or carved pulpits. 

On my first visit to the church it was full of French 
soldiers, some sleeping and others lolling round on the 
straw that thickly covered the stone floor. A big 



OVEB THE BELGIAN FRONTIER 257 

group were crowded round a charcoal brazier warming 
themselves and watching the progress of a savoury 
stew. The French soldiers are wonderful cooks, and 
the stew this day was to be a good one, for the piece 
de resistance was a fine fat hare which had been caught 
that morning near the front. The two cooks were 
exercising great care to make the stew a success, and 
the air of the place was a cheerful, expectant one. 

Some days after this visit I was again at Renning- 
helst, and the church was now a temporary hospital. 
The floor was still covered with straw, but wounded 
men were lying close together on it. The charcoal 
brazier was still there and giving out a welcome heat 
on this cold wintry day. Ambulance waggons were 
in the street next the church full of wounded soldiers, 
and more were coming up the road. 

French army surgeons were busy amongst the red- 
breeched men in the church, and three of them were 
engaged round an improvised operating table near the 
altar, where a man deeply under chloroform was having 
his jaw wired with silver wire for a bad fracture from a 
piece of shell. 

The old white-haired, weary-looking priest of the 
parish was leaning over a dying man and bending his 
head low to catch the last faint whispers. Some women 
of the village were carrying round cups of hot broth 
to the men propped along the wall, and others were 
hurrying in with blankets and pillows. 

One soldier I observed to be very blanched and 
tossing restlessly on his straw. Restlessness is always 
17 



258 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

an important sign in wounded men, and on going up 
to this poor devil and turning down his rough blanket 
the cause of the trouble was apparent. He was bleeding 
freely through a bandaged wound of the leg. The 
dressings were soaked with blood, and as the French 
surgeons were occupied I broke a professional rule 
and treated this patient without asking his doctor's 
permission. The bleeding was soon controlled, and 
the threatened death from haemorrhage averted. 

As I was completing the last turns of the bandage 
a voice murmured over my shoulder, " Vive Fentente 
cordiale." The speaker was the chief surgeon, just 
released from his work on the operating table. He 
thanked me for helping, and said that he and his two 
assistants had been up all night, and had been very 
busy. Most of the men had been wounded by shrapnel. 
Shrapnel makes very bad wounds ; it rips, tears, and 
lacerates the tissues, and repair is often impossible 
in face of the anatomical devastation. The French 
were having a great deal of trouble with their wounds, 
as we were also. All the wounds became septic. There 
is very little clean surgery in this war. The wounds 
rarely heal by first intention, and a fractured, splintered 
bone meant months of rest and painful dressings in 
hospital and a tardy convalescence. 

The fighting all along this front had been extra- 
ordinarily severe. The French hospitals and the French 
medical staff were taxed to the utmost. Every avail- 
able fighting man was in the trenches or waiting as 
supports. The German hammer was making mighty 



OVEK THE BELGIAN FRONTIER 259 

swings on the Allied anvil, and nowhere were the blows so 
heavy and so long sustained as on that famous Ypres 
salient. It was bent and dented, but not broken. 
The character of the fighting can be grasped from 
two incidents. One famous infantry regiment left 
England at full strength. All of its original officers 
were killed, wounded, or missing. Of the second lot 
of officers, all were killed, wounded, or missing. Its 
third supply of officers were now grimly up against 
the same chain of events. 

One of the first British Divisions left England with 
12,000 men and 400 officers. When it was withdrawn 
from the front to rest and refit, it could only muster 
2336 men and 44 officers I 

A famous French regiment with a long roll of battle 
honours went into action one frosty morning near 
Reims. It went forward a gleaming column of more 
than a thousand bayonets. Two days afterwards 
forty-nine men, led by an old bearded sergeant, marched 
back. These were all that were left. The sergeant had 
a bloody bandage across his forehead — he had lost an 
eye — but the French Brigadier-General embraced and 
kissed him on the cheek. The French officers standing 
near stood rigidly at the salute, and tears were running 
down their cheeks. 

The losses on our side were heavy indeed, but on the 
German side I am glad to know that they were colossal. 
The annihilation of German battalions and brigades 
is an argument that the Germans fully understand, 
and the only thing that will convince the German that 



260 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

the game is up is heavy and continuous loss of fighting 
men and difficulty in filling their ranks. This sounds 
very brutal, but we are living in a hard age. 

I was much struck by the splendid way the women 
of this small Belgian town rallied round to help the 
wounded. We found the same thing in France; no 
trouble was too great, and all was done so cheerfully 
and sympathetically. This is the " women's day " in 
France. One cannot help admiring their courage and 
ability in France's hour of trial. Husbands, sons, 
brothers, fathers — all are on the frontier, and the women 
carry on the business of France. They make the most 
stupendous sacrifices and exhibit a sublime patience. 
None are so joyful as the women when a French victory 
is announced, and none so pitiful as they when the 
wounded, the corollary to every victory, arrive at 
the towns and villages. 

This war, which the German has carried on with an 
animal ferocity and a degenerate lust unequalled in 
history, has demonstrated to the world the unfaltering 
nobility of character of the French woman, and that 
her fervent soul can rise serene and cool in the midst 
of the most appalling troubles. 

When our troops landed at Le Havre in August, it 
was noticed at once what a big part the women were 
taking in the business life of the place. There were 
women conductors on the trams, women in the 
tobacconist shops, women in the cafes as attendants, 
in the streets selling newspapers, and in all the big 
magasins. 



OVER THE BELGIAN FRONTIER 261 

In Rouen, women conducted coal and timber yards, 
vegetable and produce businesses, bakeries, butcheries, 
fishmongeries, grocers' and ironmongers' stores. Women 
drove carts and waggons, acted as tally clerks on 
wharves, did everything, in fact — and did it all soberly, 
quietly, and well. They were always tidy, smart, and 
cheerful, and did not stop work at eleven o'clock for 
a glass of beer, or spend many quarters of hours filling 
and lighting pipes of tobacco. 

One woman I know — a rosy-cheeked, blue-eyed 
Norman dame — did the catering for a large officers' 
mess in one of the camps at Rouen. At 5 a.m. she was 
at the mess tent with her pony-cart laden with wine, 
vegetables, preserves, and fruit. I have passed her 
shop at nine o'clock at night and have seen her then 
busily selling dried fish, pickles, and vinegar to her 
customers. She told me that she was too busy to sleep. 
This was in 1915, and she had been running the business 
with no other help than that of two small daughters 
since July 1914. 

Her husband was on the Argonne front, and she was 
keeping the flag flying till his return. Incidentally, 
she was making money. Catering for an officers' mess 
is fairly lucrative. 

On the march from the Marne to the Aisne, and on 
the Aisne itself, women were to be seen doing ordinary 
farm work — building stacks, carting in the wheat, 
driving waggon-loads of hay and peas, milking the cows, 
making cider and butter, tilling the soil, — and tending 
the children into the bargain. 



262 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

The most amazing thing of all was to see women 
working in the fields behind our batteries only a mile 
away. 

At Venizel, on the Aisne bank, our Engineers were 
throwing a pontoon bridge across the river under a 
heavy shrapnel fire. Shells were bursting up and 
down the river's bank and on the waters of the river, 
yet about a quarter of a mile behind three women were 
busily engaged cutting turnips for the cows. 

On the march from the Aisne to La Bassee, our 
Field Ambulance bivouacked at the Chateau of Long- 

pont. The Comte and Comtesse de M were in 

residence at the chateau, and we were told by the 
Comtesse that General von Kluck, commanding the 
right wing of the invading army, had in August stopped 
for a day and a night at the chateau with his etat- 
major. We asked how Von Kluck had behaved, and 
the Comtesse said that he had been tres agreable. 
When he arrived, she interviewed him and begged him 
to respect the old chateau and its old abbey, the 
pictures and the tapestries. The General promised 
that he would do so, and that he would give orders 
that the villagers in the hamlet near the chateau gates 
were not to be molested. It was the apple season, and 
the apple trees of Longpont were laden with delicious 
fruit. Von Kluck " asked permission " of the Com- 
tesse for his soldiers to take some apples off the trees. 
This the Comtesse graciously permitted, and the dusty 
German soldiery helped themselves to the apples and 
did not break a branch off a single tree. 



OVER THE BELGIAN FRONTIER 263 

The Comtesse provided new eggs and butter and 
bread for the General's breakfast, and he invited her 
to honour the meal with her presence. But the Com- 
tesse sent a note that she would not break bread with 
her country's enemy. This was one of the few 
chateaux and one of the few villages that the German 
Saligoth did not destroy or outrage before leaving. 

Some German Generals approved of outrages and 
atrocities, to wit, Rupprecht of Bavaria. Some dis- 
approved, and Von Kluck, it is said, was one of these — 
but I " hae ma doots." 

This leads to one of the blackest pictures of this 
war — a picture grim and loathsome. It is a subject 
which the women of France will discuss freely and 
openly and with a concentrated bitterness that one 
can readily understand. I have spoken to many 
educated French women on this subject, and have heard 
many curious and amazing tales and incidents. The 
subject is that of the women who have been ravished 
and outraged by the German soldiery. 

Many of these victims, married women and young 
girls, are to-day pregnant to German fathers, and the 
burning question with the women of France is how 
best to help their unfortunate sisters, and what is to 
be done for the offspring. 

In the French Chamber of Deputies the subject has 
been debated with equal freedom and openness. Lead- 
ing French newspapers too, such as the Figaro, Le 
Temps, Echo de Paris, and others, have envisaged the 
position in powerful and appealing articles. 



264 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

One journal advocated that in the exceptional 
circumstances it was perfectly justifiable to carry out 
abortion and interrupt the period of gestation. Opinions 
were sought from leading French physicians and from 
the Academy of Medicine. These unhesitatingly con- 
demned such a course, pointing out that the mission of 
the medical profession was to save life ; and also that 
the induction of premature labour was at all times a 
dangerous and risky operation to the mother, and in 
certain circumstances would be fatal. 

The Catholic Church in France spoke strongly and 
certainly in the same direction, and condemned as 
utterly wrong and sinful any measure that had for its 
object the death of the unborn child. 

The women of France, however, do not share these 
latter views. 

Arrangements have now been completed for the 
reception of these pitiful expectant mothers into certain 
maternity homes, where they will be attended by skilled 
doctors and nurses at the State expense. After birth 
the child is to be brought up by the State at some 
place undeclared. The mother will not see the child 
at any time, and will know nothing of its future. 

The clergy all over Northern France are attending 
to this matter, and everything will be done as secretly 
as possible in the unusual circumstances. 

No wonder that the French woman speaks of the 
German soldier as a loathly thing. 



CHAPTER XIX. 
"WE LEAVE BELGIUM. 

At the end of November our ambulance was ordered 
to St. Jans Capelle. We were not sorry to leave our 
house, with its evil pond and manure heap, and the 
voice of Madame. 

Madame, by the way, was very amiable when we 
told her that we were to leave. She did not say that 
she was sorry, but she no longer screeched at our cooks 
or railed at our men for eating her straw. Just as our 
ambulance was about to move off, and Madame stood 
at the door with the first approach to a frosty smile 
that we had ever seen on her face, a French sergeant 
and ten men of a balloon section arrived. The sergeant 
had a lump of chalk in his hand and scrawled on the 
door, " Ballon. 3 sous Officiers. Hommes x." He 
brusquely informed Madame that the quarters just 
vacated by us were to be at once taken by his balloon 
section. Madame raged and raved, but the sergeant 
was imperturbable, and suddenly quietened Madame 
by saying that if she objected very much he would 
begin to think that she was a German spy. The sergeant 
told us that as a matter of fact they were not satisfied 
about Madame's husband's patriotism. We knew that 



266 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

Madame and her sulky husband would now have a 
much worse time than when we occupied the house, 
for at least we tried to give little trouble, and lavishly 
paid for any vegetables, milk, or food that we got from 
the farmer. The French insist on the " articles of war," 
and when they occupy a house they really do occupy 
it and make themselves very much at home. 

This mention of Madame's husband being of doubtful 
honesty, reminded us of a curious incident that occurred 
early in our stay at this place. There was another 
farm close to the one we occupied, and this farm was 
owned by a man who, we were told, was a cousin of 
" Monsieur our farmer." At this house a man was 
stopping who said that he was a refugee from Ypres. 
He told us that he was a baker from Boston, United 
States of America, and that he and his wife, who were 
Belgians, had been visiting their native country when 
war broke out. He said that his wife and two children 
were in Brussels when the Germans occupied the city, 
and that he himself was stopping with a friend in 
Ypres when the Germans first bombarded it ; he then 
left Ypres and came to stop at this farmer's house. 
This man used to walk every day along a road which 
passed behind some French batteries of 75 mm., but one 
day he did not come back. We asked his farmer friend 
what had become of him, and he said that he had left 
to go to America. We thought the circumstance odd 
at the time, and when our sergeant told us about 
Madame's husband being under suspicion we asked 
him if he knew anything about this other man, the 



WE LEAVE BELGIUM 267 

Boston baker. He said that he did, for he had seen 
the fellow arrested and sent back to be tried for spying. 
That perhaps explained why Madame did not like us, 
and why her vituperation and objections were suddenly 
silenced when the French balloon sergeant talked about 
German spies. 

After leaving the inhospitable cottage-headquarters, 
our ambulance had a long day's trek over the Belgian 
frontier to St. Jans Capelle. This place was close to 
Bailleul. We put our men into billets near at hand 
and got quarters for ourselves in the Convent, where 
the sisters gave us a big dormitory full of clean white 
beds with blankets and sheets. This was indeed luxury 
after all our roughing times from the Marne till now. 
We were always perfectly willing to undergo incon- 
venience and hardships, but none of us ever missed an 
opportunity of availing himself of the luxuries and 
amenities of civilisation whenever they presented 
themselves. We had the fine front room of the Convent 
for a dining- and sitting-room, and, greatest boon of all, 
a fire to sit round. The cold was intense at this time, 
and the whole country was frozen hard in snow and ice. 
This was the period when frostbite was so terrible to 
our men in the trenches, and the Clearing Hospitals and 
Ambulance Stations were so busy treating the frozen men. 

It was found necessary to relieve frequently the 
freezing soldiers in the advanced trenches, and every 
three days they were allowed out from the terrible mud 
ditches, with death on the parapet and frostbite at the 
bottom. 



268 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

Braziers of burning charcoal were put into the 
trenches, but were found to be ineffective and harmful 
to the feet. The people of England did magnificent 
work in sending out gum boots, skin overcoats, and 
protectives of all sort, but in spite of all that was done 
the frostbite incapacitated many men. The recoveries 
were always slow, and could not be effected at the 
front, so all these limping men were sent back to England 
for rest and change. Many methods of treatment 
were tried for the frostbite, but time alone seemed to 
be the chief curative factor. In some cases the feet were 
swollen, and small bloody exudates could be seen under 
the big toe and the outer side of the foot where the 
boot pressed. Sometimes the skin was broken and 
ulcers formed at the site. In other cases toes became 
completely gangrenous or dead. The feet were rubbed 
and massaged with various oils and swathed in cotton 
wool, but wrapping in wool aggravated the suffering, 
and the men felt much more relief when the feet were 
left exposed. The worst time for the cold-feet men was 
from one o'clock to three in the morning. They would 
often go off to sleep peacefully, but would wake up at 
these hours suffering excruciating pain in their feet and 
calves and up the spine. Nothing would relieve this 
pain but hypodermic injections of morphia. One 
officer described his state to me, and said that he had 
been standing in a trench in mud over his boot-tops. 
At first his feet felt very cold, and he tried to warm 
them by stamping, but this method of exercise was 
too sloppy. Then sensation seemed to go and he felt 




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French soldiers going to the trenches. 



WE LEAVE BELGIUM 269 

quite comfortable, because although his feet felt very 
heavy they did not feel cold, only dead. On the fifth 
day he could hardly walk and had to be helped out of 
the trenches. He was unable to walk to the ambulance, 
a short way back, and the feet were found to be so 
swollen in hospital that the boots had to be cut off. 
Then the worst time of all came on, for as the circula- 
tion gradually returned he suffered diabolical pain in 
his feet and calves, and this pain was always worst in 
the early mornings. Eight weeks after having been 
lifted out of the trench he was still limping about with 
two sticks, and was making a normal but very slow 
recovery. 

This officer told me that one night the men in his 
trenches were ordered out to make a bayonet attack, 
but half of them were in such a condition that they 
could not crawl out of the trench. Fortunately the 
Germans were pushed back by those who could, other- 
wise the poor devils left behind would have been 
captured or killed. 

The Indians round the Bethune district suffered 
very severely from the frostbite, and these poor men 
deserved our greatest sympathy during this period, 
trying and terrible enough to men reared in a fairly 
rigorous climate like that of England or Scotland. 
The misery of the life to men who had never lived out 
of tropical India was enough to wear down any but the 
stoutest hearts. History will give due credit and 
praise to these Indians, that they rose superior to their 
environment and soon proved what sterling good 



270 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

soldiers they are. I visited at an Indian Clearing 

Hospital the first lot of casualties from the M 

Division. This Clearing Hospital took over the lllcole 
Jules Ferry at Bethune, and occupied it for a few weeks 
after our Clearing Hospital had vacated it. The 
doctors belonged to the Indian Medical Service, and 
the native Indian doctors belonging to the subordinate 
medical service acted under the white doctors. Some 
temporary lieutenants of the Royal Army Medical 
Corps were also on the staff. 

The dusky warriors were arriving in scores, brought 
in on motor ambulances, and very woeful they looked, 
covered with mud and bloody bandages. They had 
not been long at the front, and their first experience 
of modern war was a very desperate ordeal. 

The night was dark and gloomy and a heavy rain 
was soaking the countryside. The mud-splashed cars 
dashed into the dripping courtyard, fitfully lit up by 
the sombre gleams of smoky lanterns tied to posts. 
Round about were the dark-faced bearers ready to 
help out the wounded. Those who could walk got 
out of the ambulances themselves and the stretcher 
cases were taken out by the bearers. The scene on 
this night impressed one with the far-reaching character 
of this war, for here were men from the central plains 
of India, the far-off frontiers and the slopes of the 
Himalayas, gathered together in a muddy, marshy 
region of France, and wounded in trying to hold a line 
of ditches against the most determined and scientific 
fighting men of Europe. 



WE LEAVE BELGIUM 271 

" Rulers alike and subject, splendid the roll-call rings, 
Rajahs and Maharajahs, Kings and the sons of Kings, 
From the land where the skies are molten 

And the suns strike down and parch: 
Out of the East they are marching, 

Into the West they march." 

One swarthy Sikh with a fine beard was asked 
what he thought of the war. 

" Sahib, it is a very good war. It is a man's war. 
The old men, the women, and the children are in the 
villages. The warriors are out fighting. It is very 
good." This optimist had got through with a slight 
wound of the right hand, and perhaps that accounted 
for his cheery outlook. Most of the wounded on that 
night looked as if they would have been better pleased 
to be with " the old men, the women, and the children 
in the villages." 

There is no doubt that the Indians are pleased to be 
fighting alongside us in this " good war," but they 
have a respect for the German because he is a fierce 
fighter, and perhaps also because of his ruthlessness, 
an attitude which appeals to the Oriental mind. 

The Gurkha is a funny little man and a swash- 
buckler. His small sturdy frame, his slanting, watch- 
ful eyes with the glint of the devil in them, his bandolier, 
rifle, and deadly kukri, with its broad razor-edged 
blade, make up a picture of force and fighting cunning. 

Plaster this man with thick mud, put a bloody 
bandage round his head, and place him in a dimly lit 
corner of a dripping court on a dark, rainy night, then 
indeed he looks a breathing symbol of murder and 



272 A SUEGEON IN KHAKI 

imminent destruction. When the Gurkha is out " on 
the job " at night, prowling far from his trenches and 
within the enemy lines, with no weapon but his broad, 
sharp knife and with a mind intent on slaying, he is a 
formidable and fearsome adversary. 

At first our Indian troops found it difficult to 
accustom themselves to the novel form of war in wet, 
cold trenches, a bad climate, and with every surrounding 
strange and inhospitable. The loss of their British 
officers and native non-commissioned officers was at 
first very heavy, and this discouraged the men, who 
look so much to their officers who know their language 
and understand them. But these brave fellows soon 
" found themselves/' and have since those dark October 
days proved again and again that when the call comes 
they can be relied upon to fight with as much deter- 
mination as ever they have done in the past. An 
experienced British officer of a native regiment told 
me that what the Indians missed very much in France 
was opium. He said that the Indian had always been 
accustomed to his opium in India, that he did not take 
much, but really was the better for a little. He took 
it in small quantity as a soporific stimulant, just as 
our grandfathers took snuff, and he assured me that 
when the Indians had to meet the hellish conditions of 
modern war at the front last winter a little opium 
to each man would have meant a great deal. In this 
I cordially agree with him, for the medicinal and 
stimulant effects of small doses of opium are undoubted. 

The question of feeding our Indian soldiers was a 



WE LEAVE BELGIUM 273 

difficult one, and required very careful handling. An 
old Sikh was wounded near Bethune and was taken to 
the British Clearing Hospital. He refused to take 
anything but biscuits and water. Fortunately we 
were able to remove the old ritualist to the native 
Clearing Hospital, otherwise we would have been at an 
impasse. 

Amongst both Hindoos and Mohammedans the 
caste prejudices and ritualistic ceremonies must be 
remembered and observed in the providing and killing 
of animals for consumption. The French also have 
native troops with them and have the same difficulties 
to overcome, and this helps us considerably in arranging 
a joint commissariat scheme. A Sikh soldier will not 
eat a sheep killed in the Mohammedan method by cutting 
its throat, and the Mohammedan soldier will not eat a 
sheep killed in the Sikh method by a slashing stroke 
on the back of the neck. So there you are. These 
things do not seem to be very important, but they are 
important all the same. Ask the Jew who refuses the 
unclean pork, and the good Churchman who refuses 
meat on Fridays. 

The following story, which I heard at the front, 
illustrates the accommodating nature of the Gurkha. 
When his regiments were embarking on the transports 
at an Indian port, the point arose whether he would 
eat frozen mutton. The British officers agreed to let 
the matter be solved by the men. So they called up the 
Subadar, who, after a little wrinkling of the eyebrow, 

said, " I think, Sahib, the regiment will be willing to 

18 



274 A SUKGEON IN KHAKI 

eat the iced sheep provided one of them is always 
present to see the animal frozen to death." 

In Kouen there is an encampment for goats for the 
Indians, and we were told that these goats were good 
mountain fellows from the Pyrenees. Four Indians, 
under the charge of an old, venerable, long-bearded 
native, used to drive them from their encamp- 
ment to the Indian convalescent depot about two miles 
outside the city. 

The goats, in spite of the shouting and rushing 
about of the drivers, would not keep their ranks and 
dress by the right in marching through Normandy's 
capital city. The delight of the French people, who 
always turned up in crowds to see the goats march past, 
passed all bounds when one would make a wild dash 
up a side street, hotly pursued by an irate turbaned 
Indian. Another source of great joy was to see the 
goats march slowly along the train line and hold up the 
train traffic. 

The Indians were always of absorbing interest to 
the French, and crowds of men and women would walk 
on a fine afternoon from the city to the Indian depot 
camp for convalescents to see our brown-faced fighting 
men. 

On one winter day in Rouen, just after a heavy fall 
of snow, a company of French soldiers under a non- 
commissioned officer was marching past the Indian 
encampment. The Indians lined up the fence along- 
side the road and bombarded the French with a 
rapid fire of snowballs. The French looked surprised, 



WE LEAVE BELGIUM 275 

and, forgetting discipline but still keeping their ranks, 
poured a heavy fusillade of snowballs on the men of 
India. The incident is illustrative of the good feeling 
that exists between the French and their Indian allies. 

The Abbe Bouchon d'Homme of our hospital at 
Bethune told me with great glee one morning that the 
Mayor of the town had had a " poser " put to him by 
the Indians. One of these had just died from wounds, 
and he had evidently been a fire-worshipper. The dead 
man's comrades asked the Mayor of Bethune to provide 
them with timber, as they wished to burn the deceased 
in the cemetery of the city. The Mayor was staggered 
at the request, and although he had, so the Abbe said, 
some curiosity to see the ceremony of fire carried out, 
he had to te turn down " the proposition. So the man 
was buried in the usual way. 

Good-bye to the Front. 

The Army Headquarters, now that our line had 
been firmly established and locked firmly on our right 
with the French and on our left with the Belgians and 
French, decided to allow a short leave, at intervals, and 
in rotation, to officers and as many men as possible. 
The leave was specially designed for those who had 
been through the retreat, the Marne, and the Aisne. 
New troops were arriving at the front and gradually 
taking the place of the veterans temporarily retired to 
recuperate. 

The 5th Division had been amongst the hard knocks 
from the beginning and we got off early. 



276 A SUBGEON IN KHAKI 

I left the front by a motor bus, which conveyed a 
group of seven officers from Bailleul to Boulogne, 
and from thence we reached England by the ferry 
steamer. 

It felt uncanny to be away from the sound of the 
gims. Ever since August our lives had been punctu- 
ated with incessant gun-fire; we had roused each 
morning to the sound of heavy artillery, we had gone 
to sleep with cannonades for a lullaby, and during 
the long day had listened to the Devil's Orchestra 
of lyddite, melinite, shrapnel, and rifle fire ; and now 
away from it all we seemed to live in a curiously still 
and silent world. 

London was a very inviting place to return to. 
The hot bath, the good bed, the morning newspaper at 
breakfast had never been so much appreciated before. 
The rough knocking about and the strain had left its 
effects on the health of many of us, and these four days' 
rest and recuperation, mental and physical, were a 
godsend. 

At the end of the holiday I was appointed Surgical 
Specialist to a Base Hospital in Rouen, and for a time 
my lines were cast in quieter waters. But the allure- 
ment of the front — the call of the wild with its 
excitements and uncertainties — lasted for some time 
longer. It is a curious fact, but true, that the men at 
the front would like to get to the Base, and when they 
get there they want to return to the front. " Those 
behind say forward, and those in front say back." 

The memories of days spent at the front can never 



WE LEAVE BELGIUM 277 

be quite forgotten. Time may blunt the clearness of 
outline of some of the incidents in a hazy mist, but 
there are others that will stand out clear and undimmed 
to the last. 

The surgeon sees the very seamy side of war. He 
comes close to the men stricken down in the field, 
helpless and bleeding and in pain. He stands by them 
in their dark hours in hospital and by their bedsides 
when they die. 

While the world is hearing the earthquake voice 
of Victory, he is perhaps kneeling on the straw easing 
the path to death of a dying man, one of the victors 
in the fight, or perhaps operating in a mean cottage, 
surrounded by wounded men waiting their turn on the 
table. 

The gallant charge, the brave defence, the storming 
of the enemy's position are heralded in dispatches 
and in song and story, but translated into the note- 
book of the " Surgeon in Khaki w they represent many 
dead, many wounded, much crippling and mutilation, 
tears, distress, and broken hearts. 

I have seen brave men die the death in battle — 
changed in a second of time from forceful, vital, volcanic 
energy to still, inanimate rest. I have seen mortally 
wounded men pass uncomplainiDgly and composedly 
to the valley of the shadow, and I have seen faces become 
anxious and troubled at the thought of those dear and 
loving ones left behind and of the aching hearts and 
tears. 

I have written letters of farewell from dying men 



278 A SURGEON IN KHAKI 

and officers to wives and sweethearts and children, and 
have felt the horror and misery of it all. It is a sad 
and mournful sight to see brave young men die. 

Yet, though the life of the " Surgeon in Khaki M is 
amidst this aftermath of battle, he has the infinite 
satisfaction of knowing that he can, and does, hold out 
a hand of help to the hurt and maimed soldier crawling 
out of the welter of blood and destruction, and that he is 
doing the work of the Compassionate and Pitying One. 

"Affliction's sons are brothers in distress, 
A brother to relieve ! How exquisite the Bliss." 

This war has brought out many faults in our 
national fife, but it has also brought out many shining 
virtues, and to the Faith and Hope of the people in the 
prowess of the soldiers, we must add the Charity shown 
by the people of this Empire to our sick and wounded. 
By subscriptions to ambulance funds, Red Cross funds, 
and hospitals, and by doing all that was humanly 
possible to help those hurt in battle, the people of to- 
day have made a name that posterity will honour and 
strive in vain to equal. They have also helped the 
Belgian and Serbian Red Gross movements and have 
shown that 

" Kindness in another's trouble, 
Courage in your own," 

which is always so admirable a trait. 

Our fighting men are magnificent, and the hardihood 
and patient endurance of our wounded are beyond all 
praise. I have seen our men in actual fight, I have 



WE LEAVE BELGIUM 279 

watched the French gunners at work and seen the 
French infantry charge with the bayonet and throw 
back a German rush, and I feel a complete confidence 
of the ultimate final success of the Allied arms — for 
to such men is given the Victory. 



THE END. 



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